The Ties that Bind
by Spacefille
Summary: When a few guys at school make Kyle their target, Cartman decides to take advantage of the situation. His plan backfires when he finds himself falling for the boy he thinks he hates. Will anything ever be the same again? A dark CartmanxKyle, multiple pairings.
1. Hatred

When a few guys at school make Kyle their target, Cartman decides to take advantage of the situation. His plan backfires when he finds himself falling for the boy he thinks he hates. Will anything ever be the same again? A dark CartmanxKyle, multiple pairings.

**Warning**: Contains references to rape, non-consensual situations, and bad language. Reader discretion is strongly advised.  
**Disclaimer**: I don't own South Park and I'm not making any money off of this work of fiction.

**_The Ties that Bind_**

Chapter 1: Hatred  
_Cartman's Point of View_

I felt nothing for him beyond dull loathing. It was a smoldering dislike that had built up over the years and none of the recent events in my life could convince me to feel differently.

At least that was what I kept on telling myself, in the hallways, under my breath as I made my lumbering way from class to class.

Of course if I took the time to look deep inside of myself, beyond the reasoning I kept on giving my brain, I suppose I would have found something more than just hatred.

Maybe.

It was the beginning of grade 9. Nothing new here, nothing really had changed since elementary, except for the fact that we now had to go to the combined grades 6-12 High School building with a couple more kids shipped in from neighboring towns. Whatever. I still hung around Stan and Kenny and them, most of the time. Recently, though, I had been spending more and more time away from the group, training. Yeah, training.

Usually I wouldn't give a fuck about sports, but Kyle proved himself yet again to be an ass and told me I was too fat and out of shape to play on the high school football team. I decided to prove him wrong.

Fucking loser.

I hated him, you see, not because he's Jewish or gay or anything nearly as asinine, though people may assume that was the reason. No, Kyle was the bane of my existence because he was himself an intolerable little prick. Always first with the self righteous "I told you so Cartman!" comments. I hated him because he stole my friends from me… I enjoy basking in the attention of others. Stan was SO easy to manipulate back in elementary, if it wasn't for Kyle, he WOULD have been my best friend. But no, Kyle continued to be his annoying little voice of reason and is still to this day.

Not only that but he was always assuming the best of people, including me. I'm not a nice person. I'm not. I only care about myself, and sometimes people around me that I like, which does NOT include Kyle Broflovski. It never has. That means that I don't care if someone beats the shit out of Kyle and leaves him wounded and bleeding and probably nearly dead as well. Really I don't.

So why, then, did I feel so horrible?

I suppose I saw it coming for a couple months before it happened, if I had cared to take notice. Someone who WASN'T me began to spread rumors that Kyle was gay. Not in the "dude, that's gay," kind of way, but in an "I let other boys lick my balls and fuck me in the ass" kind of way.

I thought nothing of it, besides taking the opportunity to tease him about it, since it seemed to upset him so much. I didn't actually think Kyle was gay, even if he was the last boy in our friend group to get laid. Okay, maybe he was gay. But more than likely girls thought he was boring as hell and ugly. I thought he was boring and ugly… well, boring at least.

So what if Stan had sex with Wendy back in the 6th grade during one of their many get together/break up again stints. So what if girls thought Kenny was incredibly hot when he took off his parka. So what if I decided to get laid last spring and manipulated this one ugly chick in our class into having sex with me (and then dumped her the next day.)

Okay, so it meant a lot. Shut up.

I never realized until that day how deep the rumors had run and how much someone - again who wasn't me - wanted Kyle to suffer.

It was the older students that stood out the side doors of the school smoking, did drugs and talked about how they were going to kill a homeless guy someday for fun who did it. I also caught a couple Jew hating remarks from them from time to time, and, yeah, a couple of them had shaved heads. Whatever. I can shave my head and make Jew-hating remarks too. Correct that, I have shaved my head and made Jew-hating remarks before. That didn't last very long, as I look horrible with a shaved head.

Back to the loser druggie students, I didn't guess that they were serious. What the fuck, huh?

I watched with vague interest at lunch time when one of them picked a fight with Kyle, picking the wretchedly thin boy up by the collar of his shirt and thrusting him against the wall. Kyle fought back, telling the guy to fuck off and such. The bigger boy didn't listen, at least until Stan stood as well and told the guy to get lost and leave them alone. People generally listen to Stan. Stan, who excels at every fucking sport he tries, also isn't afraid of getting into fights, especially if it's for a good cause. Stan usually wins too. I'm sure his reputation preceded him.

The guy backed down. I suppose he didn't want to get his blood splattered all over the nice white floors. Smart kid. I did catch the solid tap on the ass the guy gave Kyle as he left. Kyle's cheeks flared bright red as he glared after the guy.

It was an ordinary fall day when it happened. I had just gotten off of football practice and was making my way back to the school. I was going to give my mom a call and have her come pick me up since I had missed the bus. It was then that I heard the sound of someone VERY familiar yelling for help. His yell was cut off midsentance… it sounded like someone was muffling the cry.

Hmm… suspicious. Since I enjoy seeing other's pain and misery, I decided to investigate.

I found them all behind the small grove of trees at the end of the right side of the school field. It was Kyle and three other boys. If I remembered correctly the other boy's names were Tony and Cory and Trent. One boy, Trent, was from our classes, the other two were from the side door smokers group. Kyle was obviously not in very good shape and two of the other boys had his limbs pinned.

"Uh, what are you doing?" I asked.

Kyle's head jerked up and he saw me. A relieved look crossed his bloodied face. "Cartman!" He shouted.

I just looked at them. All the guys turned around and looked at me back.

"Cartman!" Kyle continued. "Help me! Please!" He started struggling to get away from the two guys who had him pinned.

It was about then that I noticed where the hands were on the two boys who had Kyle. You can learn a lot from people from the way they hold themselves. Like the fact that Cory, who had Kyle's legs, was actually gripping Kyle's pants, which appeared to be somewhat undone. And Trent, who was only standing over Kyle… well Trent's belt was off and he was holding it in one of his hands. Trent's other hand was on the waist line of his own pants.

"Oh hoho!" I jeered. "Haha." I smirked at the guys. "I got it." They continued to look at me expectantly and no one replied. I knew what they were thinking. Was I going to interfere?

I wasn't. This was actually quite amusing. "Kyle," I scolded, pretending to be shocked. "Three at once? I never knew you were that much of a slut!" That got chuckles from everyone BUT Kyle.

Kyle's face flushed red. "I – I'm not!" He protested, practically sputtering with anger.

I was ignoring him now. I returned my gaze to the other three boys. I shrugged. "Please," I made mock a flowery gesture with my hand. "Continue." I turned away. "Don't let ME interfere with your little romantic rendezvous."

"Cartman, STOP, damn it!" Kyle's voice shouted after me. There was a lot of raw desperation in that voice, which made me smirk as I continued to walk towards the school. I was almost gloating. Kyle was going to get fucked in the ass…

"Cartman! Cartman, God damn it, listen to me! _Cartman!_ _CARTMA-_!" Someone muffled his voice again.

"Thank god." I muttered under my breath. His voice was starting to get on my nerves.

Looking back on it now I should have helped him. Even if I had to tease him for weeks/months/years that Kyle Broflovski had to be rescued by Eric Cartman.

I should have…

But I didn't. Instead I just turned around and walked away. When I got to the school I calmly called my mom to come get me without giving it another thought.

It took Kyle a day or two to come back to school. I found out through the grapevine, namely Stan, that the incident had landed Kyle in the hospital. Nothing was said of any ass fucking, only that the boys who had been responsible for beating the shit out of Kyle had been suspended for a couple weeks. I suppose since Stan told me like I should sympathize with Kyle's plight that Kyle forgot to mention my tiny involvement in the entire thing.

The first time I saw him was two days later at lunch. He was looking down when he came up to us, but I could see his face was pretty messed up, nasty but healing bruises lined his jaw and a black eye was still swollen. He frankly looked like he had been through a war.

I watched, a bit fascinated, as Kyle gingerly sat down next to Stan. The way he sat… it looked like it hurt so much. Stan caught it. He placed a hand on his best friend's shoulder for a moment. Just long enough to tell him he cared, and he wasn't going to bug him about it.

I wasn't so nice. "Wow, Kyle, it looks like you have a major pain in the ass there!"

Kyle's head snapped up. He glared. "Shut up fatass!" He said. He was covering how much that comment hurt, I could tell by the way his face contorted.

"What, Kyle, you lost a bet? Haha, whoever looses gets to be fucked like a little Jewish bitch?"

Kyle's eyes had filled with tears which he battled to keep back. "Shut UP you fucking fatass!" He shouted, emotion running so high in his voice that it cracked at the end of "ass".

"Yeah, Cartman, lay off." Stan spoke up. The calm raven haired boy met my eyes with a stern silent 'back off' expression on his face.

Kenny backed him up by muttering "Yeah," Under his breath. Even Butters, for fucks sake, was glaring at me from one table over.

I sorta wished I could stop. Unfortunately when God made me, he forgot to give me common sense. And empathy. "Ay! I'm not the fucking gay Jew whore who likes the taste of cock!" I turned my attention back to Kyle. "Tell me Jew, what's it like to be ass raped? Did you suck their balls too? Did you enjoy the yummy yummy taste of scrotum?"

Kyle broke. "Fuck you Cartman!" He screamed at me, then got up and stormed from the lunch room.

Stan glared at me. "You're a fucking asshole Cartman." He stated. He got up and followed Kyle.

Eh. I shrugged and pretended it didn't matter. Apparently it did though, because I had suddenly lost most of my appetite. And that fucking NEVER happens to me. I managed to eat two more bites of my sandwich before I gave up and got up from the table as well.

I didn't suppose I would find them when I heard a pair of familiar voices from down the drama classes corridor. I stopped right before the turn in the hall and listened with my ear against the wall. Kyle's voice was high pitched and desperate.

" … he **saw** Stan. He **saw** and… oh god…" His voice wavered off and was muffled in what I could only assume was Stan's shirt, since I couldn't see them. Stan spoke reassuringly in a soft voice.

"It's okay Kyle, shh, it's okay."

"… it's not though!" There was a soft piteous wail to his voice now. "I just…" His voice lowered. "I just want to die Stan, I can't… I can't live like this, I can't…"

"Dude, you're stronger than that." Stan reprimanded softly. "I know you Kyle. You're going to get through this. Look, those assholes got suspended, and you know them. I'm sure a couple of them won't even bother coming back. In a couple months no one's going to even remember what happened…"

"Yes, but Cartman…" Kyle tried again, his voice wavering.

"Cartman is an asshole prick who doesn't care about anything but himself and making other people miserable." Stan sounded exasperated. "Just ignore him, Kyle."

"I—I don't …" Kyle trailed off and his next words were muffled again. It took me a couple seconds to realize he was sobbing.

Part of my brain was like "haha, Kyle is a crybaby pussy," but the other part felt something odd. I think it was… remorse. And, well, I was also kinda offended that Stan thought I only cared about making people miserable. Even if it was partly true…

I laid off Kyle for the next month or so. I don't know why, but I decided to stop trying to make him miserable, since he was doing just fine being miserable by himself.

It was boring not picking on Kyle, but I could find other things to focus on. Like watching Kyle from a distance. That drove him crazy. When I silently handed back papers to him in class without any jeers or jabs at his near failing grades, (he used to be an 'A+' student), I could tell he wanted to yell at me. Demand to know what I was up to. But he didn't and I just kept on being sweetly pleasant to Kyle. The more I did that, the more, it seemed, to bother him.

Watching Kyle led me to notice things I wouldn't have before. I noticed when it stopped being uncomfortable for him to sit down (about a week later), when he started smiling again at something someone said (two weeks later), and lastly who was still bugging him and what class it occurred in. (Trent came back to school and Kyle shared a gym class with him. Lucky for him, so did Stan.) I also noticed how tense and unhappy Kyle was after that class. My ONLY jerkish behavior came during that time, when I would notice how tense he was and would slap him on the ass just to get him to scream at me.

Haha.

Unfortunately watching Kyle from a distance was beginning to have an adverse effect on me. I started to notice how lovely he looked in math class, when his brow was wrinkled with concentration and his mouth drawn into a cute little pout. Even how interesting his large Jewish nose looked when he pinched it in frustration. I stopped abruptly once when I caught myself wondering if Kyle's hair would be soft like mine or coarse and rough if I ran my fingers through it.

"Bad brain, bad!" I muttered under my breath and hit myself on the side of the head a couple times. God damn, where the HELL did that come from?

It was about a month and a half later, near the end of football season when, once again, I heard a familiar voice while I was coming off the field. This time the voice was accompanied by another male voice. Also this time the voices were a lot closer to the school than they had been before.

I stopped. For a very long moment I considered not going around the side of the school building to investigate. It wouldn't hurt me any would it? And it would even save Kyle's pathetic little feelings as well if he didn't know I was there.

Of course about then I heard a sharp high pitched cry of pain from Kyle that sounded like he was actually getting badly hurt.

"Shit." I swore. God damn it. "Why does this always happen to ME?" I asked no one in particular as I walked around the side of the building.

Trent. I marveled at my luck at always finding these situations. He had Kyle against the wall, pinned with his entire body weight. An arm was pressed against his throat, probably preventing him from breathing very well. What made the picture even more horrible was the fact that Trent was groping Kyle. I stared. Great. Another month of Kyle being despondent and suicidal and taking a week to be able to sit down properly. Lame.

As I watched Trent tried to kiss Kyle, slobbering on his face liberally. Kyle didn't like it, and tried to turn his face away despite being trapped.

"Well that's disgusting," I muttered under my breath. What was even sicker was that now that I knew what was going to happen to Kyle, I kinda found it appealing. But the dude was doing it all wrong, you had to make him like it if you really wanted to fuck with his head. Slobbering all over him would just make him hate you…

Sometimes I'm a sick little fucker aren't I?

I smiled briefly, and then frowned. Neither one of them had noticed me yet, which was retarded of them. I wondered again if I should wander away and let Kyle be ass-raped again. At least by leaving I would give him some privacy...

I had **almost** turned away when I noticed Kyle was looking at me out of the corner of his eye. I don't know how he managed to do that. It's like he had a Cartman radar or something.

What was interesting was the fact that instead of looking at me desperately and begging for me to help him like last time, he was just looking at me. Like he somehow expected to see me now that someone was trying to have their way with him. The eyes that focused on me seemed apathetic… he looked tired.

At about that moment Trent apparently decided that Kyle wasn't being responsive enough and punched him in the stomach. Kyle looked away from me and let out a grunt of pain he had to struggle to try to keep in.

That decided it. I gave up trying to leave. "May as well," I muttered under my breath. I could probably work this in my favor. Yes… an evil scheme started to hatch in my brain. "Ay!" I said louder. "Get away from mah Jew!"

Trent looked surprised for a second as he looked me up and down. Kyle was looking at me too out of the corner of his eyes, surprise that I decided to speak up for him and then distrust of my motives on his face.

Then Trent laughed. He turned Kyle around so that he was facing me, with his arm tightly around his neck so that he couldn't escape. He grabbed the boy's crotch, causing a flash of pain to dart across Kyle's face. "I know you." He said. "You're that kid who tried to exterminate Jews a couple years back weren't you?"

I gave him a wary look. "Yeah?" I replied. There was going to be a catch here, I just knew it.

Trent winked and licked his lips, turning his head ever so slightly to lick the side of Kyle's face. "You can have some too if you'd like. He's a really nice fuck. Aren't you whore?"

Kyle winced and made a struggle to get away. It was pointless, I could see from the bruising on his face and the way he moved that he had already put up a hell of a fight and was exhausted.

"Well…" I began… stepping forwards. I pretended to consider it, long enough to get close to Trent. Then "Of course not you fucking bastard!" I declared loudly. With that I did a move that I learned in Karate class which I was never ever supposed to do, I poked him in both the eyes and when he dropped Kyle, I got in an excellent neck jab. Trent went down like a rock.

"Jez-us." I muttered as I stared down at Trent. I poked at his shoulder with my foot. He didn't move. Huh. I really did knock him out cold! He was going to be mad as shit when he woke up, I decided. If I wasn't already bigger than most of the kids in high school I'd actually be a little bit frightened.

Kyle stared up at me from where he sat on the pavement. "Cartman?" He began, sounding a bit incredulous.

Oh yeah, I had just saved Kyle's ass. I thought about that for a moment, than decided something. "Come on." I said. I grabbed his arm and hauled him to his feet, then practically dragged him into the school.

"Uh, Cartman? Where the hell are we going dude?" Kyle asked, trying and failing to twist out of the killer grip I had on his wrist.

"Somewhere." I replied shortly. "Now shut up before I kick your ass."

Kyle actually shut up. Would miracles never cease.

I took him through rarely used corridors then down a set of stairs that no one used, except to teach the overflow gym classes and girl's self defense about 4 days a year. Kyle had obviously never been here, I could tell by the confused look on his face. Good. I used the faculty key I had stolen off of the grade 7 music teacher to open the door and pushed him inside so hard he fell on the gym mats spread all over the floor. I shut the door behind me very deliberately, than started to advance on Kyle.

"Cartman?" He tried again, a nervous waver in his voice.

"Haha, Kyle, you're mine now." I told him gleefully. I rubbed my hands together for good measure.

Surprise flashed across his face as he figured it out. He opened his mouth to scream…

"Scream all you want Kyle." I told him as I slowly approached. "No one's going to hear you. Not down here. Not at this time of day."  
He screamed anyway. A great big giant "HELP! SOMEBODY HELP!"

For a long moment we both listened for any sound of someone reacting. Footsteps, voices, anything. After a half a minute of complete silence I laughed.

"See Kyle?" I said. "No one can hear you. No ones going to save you."

He began backing up on the mats. There was raw desperation on his face. And fear. It was almost like a drug to see fear in Kyle's eyes. Why hadn't I thought of this before? I've gone as far as to threaten to kill him, chop up his body and leave the pieces where his family can find them THAT didn't scare him, but this did?

I smirked despite myself. Then I darted forwards and tackled him, rolling us about so that his legs were pinned beneath my much greater body weight. I grabbed him by the hair and yanked his face forwards. For a long moment I looked into his eyes…

His eyes were wide and full of emotion… dread, loathing, self hatred… desperation. I resisted the urge to hurt him and despite myself reached out and drew a hand over his cheek. He flinched, his breath coming quicker. "Don't…" He started, but it was like the words got stuck in his throat. If anything the fear in his eyes got stronger. He also looked like he was just about to cry.

My brain filled in the blanks Kyle was unable to say. _'Don't touch me. Don't hurt me. Oh God, please don't do this Cartman…'_

Sweet.

I thumbed his cheek soothingly. "I'll make you a deal Kyle." I said cheerfully. "You don't put up a fuss like the little pussy you are, and I promise not to hurt you. Deal?"

He didn't reply. But he did sorta pout. And the fear didn't really leave his eyes.

I smiled at him. After a couple of seconds, I leaned forwards...

His lips trembled minutely under mine. I made sure I went slow, taking my time before reaching forwards to touch his lips with my tongue in enticing invitation…

He jerked back then, running a hand across the back of his mouth.

"What are you playing at Cartman?" He demanded to know, glaring at me.

"What?" I asked, pasting an angelic look on my face.

Kyle's face went from red to white to red again. He let out a delirious little laugh.

"What?" I repeated.

"You! Oh god. What the hell was that? A KISS? You KISSED me Cartman?" There was something twisted on his face that I had never seen before. I couldn't even really name the emotion. Confusion? Delirium? Insanity?

"You want to fuck me too." He said bluntly. "I got that," He continued. Suddenly he turned around, his ass facing me. "Go ahead Cartman, now that you've so kindly pointed out how god damned helpless I am! And I know you've wanted to since grade fucking four, to stick it to me. Do it." Trust me, that ass was very tempting. But Kyle wasn't done yet. There was a hint of hysteria in his voice as he continued. "_But don't you fucking pretend to be nice about it_!"

For a moment I didn't say anything. "Wow, Kyle, you've finally cracked." I said joyfully. Then "Heh." I leaned forwards, wrapping my arms around his waist. His body made a surprised jerk and he suddenly struggled violently, making a desperate bid to get away. It took almost everything I had to hold him. When he finally calmed I held him in place forcefully for a while. I continued to hold him firmly until he stopped struggling even a little bit and instead waited for what I was going to do next.

Then I lowered my mouth onto his neck, kissing and suckling while slowly running my hands up and down his shirt, feeling his too thin chest beneath the fabric.

For a while he didn't react at all. Not until my fingers found a nipple under that shirt and began to gently toy with it. I must have been doing something right because his head fell back on my shoulder and he let out a little gasp.

"What… what are you doing Cartman," Kyle asked point blank. I could tell he was trying to save face and make his voice steady but he kinda failed miserably. Especially when my hands found the bottom of his t-shirt and crept inside. Now that hand could play with his nipples with no shirt in the way. At the same time the other hand went below. Sure enough, I could feel that he was hardening though the fabric of his pants. I drew circles around it, applying just enough pressure to make him gasp and make little pleading noises in the back of his throat.

I knew he'd make another break for it. I guess Cartman fondling him while he's on his hands and knees was too much for his already confused mind.

He went from totally relaxed to wrenching himself out of my grasp and scrambling a few feet away. He clenched the rim of his shirt and glared at me from where he sat; saying nothing though his face was taut with suspicion and hurt anger. That made him even lovelier with his flushed cheeks and swollen lips.

I smirked. This was a lot more fun than seducing that girl. She didn't know me very well but was just as horny as I was… there was no CHALLENGE. Kyle… Kyle was very much a challenge. He expected to get fucked. I intended to make him like it. He also hated me, an added bonus. If I could play this right I could have a LOT of fun.

Down Eric, I told myself in my head. Control. I was so hard it hurt, but I had to ignore that for now.

"Kyle," I began, approaching him carefully. The look he gave me was one of wary distrust. He wanted to bolt, I could tell by the way his body leaned towards the door. He may actually make it this time, now that I wasn't in between the door and him. I had to go VERY slowly. I crouched down a couple feet away from him. "Is it so hard to believe that I…" I paused dramatically for effect. "Might actually have feelings for you?"

Kyle glared at me. "Yeah actually." He retorted. "What are you DOING Cartman?" He finally asked, exasperated. "You hate me. We've been through this how many times before?"

I pretended to look hurt. "I don't hate you." I replied.

"Yeah, you DO! You just tried to…!" Kyle tossed his hands in the air in aggravation, than pinched his nose in frustration, a habit he had picked up from Stan. "Oh god, I'm only fourteen. I shouldn't have to deal with shit like this…"

"It's only because you're so ver-ah pretty." I told him cheerfully. I reached out and tousled his red curls. Ohh, they **were** soft.

"I am n- STOP IT CARTMAN," Kyle yelled, jerking away. Now he decided to make for the door. He didn't get very far. I caught him before the door and pinned him beneath myself again. I gripped his wrists in my hands and struggled then succeeded to pin his legs beneath mine.

Fear flashed in those green eyes again. But it didn't last long before it was replaced by angry Kyle face. He struggled against me, pushing against me with his chest, grunting and growling about how he was going to kill me. I resisted the urge to punch that already bruised face to quell him. I didn't need to anyway. I outweighed and outsized him easily. And it wouldn't make him like what I was going to do to him if he was in **too **much pain.

I held still, marveling at the self control I have when I wanted to have it. He calmed slowly, going from angry to fearful to warily curious when he saw that I wasn't going to do anything but hold him still. "C-cartman?" He tried after a moment.

I didn't reply. Instead I leaned down and kissed him again, gently. If he was smart, which I knew he was, he would start responding, instead of trying to get away. He couldn't get away, he had to realize that by now. The only way to get out of this was to play along. I waited, pulled away a bit, and kissed him again, this time a bit more insistently. At the same time I slowly released the pressure on his wrists.

Bingo. Hesitantly he kissed me back, tongue timidly flicking against my lips. He didn't even move his hands, though he could very well jerk them away now. Even better. He was submitting. Awesome.

I deepened the kiss, tongue clashing against his. At the same time I sent my hands roaming up his sides, feeling his chest as he jerked away and gasped for breath. I took that opportunity to attack his neck, suckling there where I already knew he was sensitive and responsive. Sure enough he gasped again, this time the pleading noises in his throat getting more and more desperate. I smiled to myself as I continued, lowering my body weight to the side to lie beside him on the mats. I turned him gently as I continued to touch him intimately, rolling him on his side so that his back was facing me. For a very brief moment he struggled against me again, but relaxed again when I whispered in his ear that I wasn't going to hurt him and accompanied that statement with a stroke of the front of his jeans. That made him groan and buck against my hand. I smirked to myself and maneuvered us about again, this time turning on my back and pulling him down on top of me so his back continued to press into my front. This way I could use both my hand and my mouth. One hand was already inside his shirt, pushing it up around his armpits, the other hand delved into his jeans. A couple yanks later I had freed his penis, and I laid warm thick fingers on it, teasing him gently, stroking him up and down.

He panted as his head fell back again, and I could see his wrinkled forehead as he concentrated.

"Yes." I whispered soothingly. "That's it Kyle." I sped up my fingers, jacking him like I would myself, which made him squirm and grunt. At the same time I pushed up with my hips to press my own erection against his back side. Just enough to let him know it was there, not enough to frighten him. "You don't have to keep it all inside anymore. Just let go…"

I was driving him crazy, I could tell. It seemed like it was only seconds later when he came with a shout, jerking against me, warm fluid coating my fingers. He laid against me gasping for breath as I carefully wiped my fingers off on his jeans.

"Good Kyle." I said into his ear. "Good Kyle. There we are, that wasn't so hard, was it? And it didn't hurt at all…" I rolled him over again, and gently laid him on his back so that I could see his face.

Green eyes glared up at me through the shimmer of tears. Yes, tears. Kyle had been crying. I had made him cry.

I smiled at that. Good. Very good. I reached out and wiped one of them off his face. "Gee, Kyle, I didn't know this is what I needed to do to get you to cry like a little girl."

Kyle swiped at his face angrily. "I hate you Cartman." He said in a low voice. "I hate you so much." He replaced his pants and rolled down his shirt with quick jerky fingers. He won't look at me now, his face red and lips drawn into a fine line. I also noticed he was trembling minutely.

"You only think you hate me," I replied cheerfully. "It's okay to feel angry from time to time Kyle, and it makes you even more attractive."

That tousled head of red hair jerked up. He glared at me with more venom than when I tried to get "Family Guy" cancelled several years before and stumbled to his feet.

"Stay away from me Cartman," He ground out. "Just… just stay away from me!" And with that he bolted for the door.

This time I didn't tackle him. I didn't need to. I just sat there and smiled as I heard the sound of his footsteps retreating up the stairs. I was very satisfied with myself. Kyle was mine now… I knew just how to get him.

And since I was alone now… I reached down and unbuttoned my pants. Groaning softly in pleasure I began to beat off. Images of Kyle flashed through my mind as I did so. Lovely images of Kyle. And in all of them I was fucking him or doing something wicked and pleasurable to his body… and what was even better… I was making him enjoy it.


	2. Friendship

Chapter 2

**Friendship  
**_Stan's point of view_

-

For some reason I'm kind of like the school's sex and crisis counselor. Trust me, it's not a job I enjoy, and I wish very much that I didn't have it.

I suppose there are reasons why people keep on inexplicably using me as their personal counselor. It's probably because I am well known as the boy who had sex first in our age group, back in grade 6. I thought it was cool that Wendy let me go all the way with her for a whole 24 hours, until I realized what a pain the figurative ass it was. Kids in our grade started calling Wendy a slut, which was retarded since she had only slept with me. Kenny acted like he hated me because I got laid before him, which was irritating. Boys in my grade also started calling me a stud and some of them started trying to beat me up because I did 'it' first, which was even more retarded.

I didn't know having sex was a race. Or a game. Or anything like that. So Wendy and I had sex… I felt her bits, she felt mine, and after a while I put my bits in hers and thrust a couple times. So what?

After a while I got frustrated, both at being envied and having Wendy, who was still my girlfriend, being called bad names, so I beat the shit out of this one guy who made the mistake of calling her a whore in front of me.

They all left me… US alone after that.

-

In grade 7, a girl in my class got raped.

I was the one she ended up confiding in. I'm sure it wasn't deliberate… I just happened to be the one that came across her on the west-side school steps bawling her eyes out. I would have freaked out and ran the other way, but I kinda liked the girl. Even if there had been rumors going around that she was dating some 18 year old guy.

I sat down beside her and asked her what was wrong. Turns out that 18 year old guy had raped her one night when he had invited her over to watch a movie. She had told him to stop and he didn't and she said it really really hurt. I didn't know what to say, so I awkwardly patted her shoulder and offered to go kick his ass.

She wailed "No!", and started to cry harder to my absolute dismay. Then she turned around and buried her head in my shoulder and sobbed into my shirt for a while. After she was done she sniffled, said "Thank you for listening to me Stan, it really meant a lot to me," and gave me a hug before getting up and walking away.

Girls are fucking messed. I was confused for weeks after that. I was so confused I asked my dad why a girl would not want me to beat up some guy who raped them and why they cry so damned much. He shrugged and said that woman were fucking confusing to him too, which had my mom yelling at him for a good half hour.

Go figure.

-

In the beginning of Grade 8, Butters confided in me about his problem. He was super nervous doing it (then again, when isn't Butters super nervous?) and afraid that I would ignore him, or worse, tease him. By this time I had resigned myself to my fate and listened to him.

Turns out he had been seeing a girl in our class and she wanted to go all the way with him. At that point I congratulated him and slapped him on the back good naturedly.

I figured that was it, but I was wrong. That was when Butter's confession came out. Turns out his uncle used to fuck him when he was younger, or something like that, he was vague on the details. Anyway he had a medical condition for a while, and had trouble controlling his rectum. Even though he had the problem under control now and had for a couple years, he still felt like he was dirty and yucky down yonder, no matter how clean he kept himself.

Butter's problem was the easiest to figure out. I thought about it for a whole 2 seconds before a solution came to mind… if he WAS so nervous, why didn't he just have a shower and scrub himself good before doing anything with the girl? Butters thought about that for a bit and then I added that maybe the girl had a fish smell problem with her vagina and felt really self conscious about her fish smell. For some reason the thought of someone else being afraid of smelling down there made Butters feel much better. Since as far as I know the two are still dating, I assume it worked out.

-

Near the end of grade 8 Kyle came out with his shocker. That one was the hardest to deal with.

We were relaxing at my place after a good game of laser tag with Cartman, Kenny, Butters, et al. My parents weren't home and everyone else had gone home as well. It was just the two of us, me and my best buddy.

It was then that Kyle asked the question. You know the question. The "What would you do if I said I was gay Stan?" question.

I choked on my slushie. It was unfair really, to randomly pop a question like that on me when I was completely relaxed. I got my coughing under control and eyed him.

"I dunno." I replied. "**Are** you gay?"

He was blushing, about the same color as his hair. He turned his head away and mumbled something in the general direction of his lap.

"What?" I asked. The blushing probably meant yes, which blew my mind. Kyle? GAY? Well, I suppose he had never shown much interest in girls… but still… "You're not serious are you?"

He looked back up at me out of the corner of his eye. "Maybe." He said.

He was serious. And that maybe meant… "Yes?" I replied incredulously.

He looked away again. "Okay, yes, I guess." He said.

I frowned. I was still having trouble processing this new information. Kyle Gay. What? "Alright, run that by me again?" I asked.

Kyle cleared his throat. He looked like he wanted to be anywhere else but in my living room right then. "I'm gay Stan." He said in a very soft but very firm voice.

Talk about the confession of a life time. I could have started teasing him and bugging him about it, but that's not something you do to a friend you've been hanging out with since you were 2. I thought about it for a moment. "Like, Mrs. Garrison, Mr. Slave gay?" I asked.

Kyle stared at me, than shook his head adamantly. "No, dude, ew!" He protested. "No." He sighed and thought some more, obviously trying to find the right words. "I like being me, Stan." He said earnestly. "I like being a boy. I like playing basketball and all that. I'm not a fag, I'm not like Gay Al or Mr. Slave or anyone like that. I just…" He paused for quite a while before he got the guts up to continue. "I just think I'm attracted to other boys instead of girls. That's all." His green eyes pleaded with me to understand.

I could get it, I guess. I mean I had never been attracted to guys at all, but that didn't mean that I couldn't pretend to be supportive and all that shit.

"I see." I said. I looked at him and then at the wall, trying valiantly to deal with this. I mean my best friend was sitting beside me telling me he's attracted to other boys. It's… disconcerting to say the least.

"Stan?" Kyle questioned after enough silence had crept by. There was a note of desperation in his voice. Like he expected me to turn on him now, perhaps beat the shit out of him or something. "I'm sorry… look, dude, forget I said anything, okay?"

I looked back at him then. I actually felt sorry for him, it wasn't very often I get to see that much nervousness and anxiety on Kyle's face.

I shrugged deliberately. "It's okay dude, no biggie." I told him matter-of-factly. "I mean, I'm not attracted to guys or anything, but if you are, that's cool." It's the biggest thing I've ever said, I think, to date.

I've never seen Kyle look so relieved. He smiled from ear to ear. "So you're not grossed out?" He asked. "We're still friends?"

"Of course." I slapped him on the back jovially to show how much we were still friends.

He winced ever so slightly, though the huge grin on his face didn't fade at all. "Don't tell anyone, 'kay?" He asked.

I gave him a "are you insane?" look. "Wow. Dude, don't be stupid. I'm not going to tell anyone."

He smiled gratefully. "Thank you Stan." He said. "You're a really good pal, you know that, don't you?"

I smiled back. "I've been told," I replied.  
Several minutes later found us sitting in front of the TV playing video games. When I died, I paused the game. I had to know.

"Hey! I was winning that round!" Kyle protested. Then he looked at me. "… What?" He asked in reply to the expression on my face.

It took me a moment to come out with it. "You're not attracted to **_me_**, are you Kyle?" I asked.

His eyes widened. "What? Dude! No!" He replied. "Not you." He blushed again.

I raised an eyebrow. "Then who?" I pressed. There was someone, or else he wouldn't be blushing.

He looked down at his hands fiddling with the Gamesphere 2 controller for a couple seconds before he was able to reply. "Craig." He said finally. He smiled sheepishly up at me and continued to blush. "I think he's kinda good looking."

I nodded sagely as I considered that. Kyle was looking at me expectantly. Waiting for a response. God, I hate it when I have to think over what I say, and I wasn't getting out of this one without replying.

I cleared my throat. "I suppose Craig would be good looking if he wasn't such an annoying little shit." I said.

Kyle grinned at me. I grinned back. Then we went back to playing video games for the rest of the night.

-

We continued being friends, Kyle and I, actually we continued along in our friendship much like the topic had never been brought up in the first place. That is, until someone at school decided to leak that Kyle was gay.

It wasn't me, but I knew the moment I heard a couple guys jeering about it in the locker room that Kyle was in trouble. I confronted him on it later at his house while visiting, and asked how it could have possible gotten out. I hadn't been the one to tell anyone, and I don't think he was stupid enough to leak it either. Letting kids at school know you're gay was basically like signing your own death warrant.

He knew about the rumors… in fact he had already been threatened by a couple of eleventh graders. I hated to see what this was doing to him. He was wringing his hands in nervous distress, just like Butters, as he paced his bedroom floor. I was a little bit worried as I watched him from where I sat on his bed. This wasn't the calm confident Kyle I had grown up with, the incredibly smart boy who got frustrated at stupidity and hated people who made others suffer. He looked hunted for god's sake. "I don't know how they found out!" He said, his voice cracking. He cleared his throat. "I mean, maybe someone saw me making out with Riley…"

"With _who_?" I asked. I didn't know anyone by the name of Riley.

Kyle blushed all the way down to his very red roots. "I, uh…" He sat down on his bed as well, a fair distance away from where I sat. "You know that little grove of trees at the end of the school field?" He asked.

I nodded.

"Well uh, Riley… he was in grade 12 and stuff and I used to make out with him there last semester. He moved to Denver with his family in December, so I haven't seen him in a while…"

"Wait… wait a minute Kyle…" I interrupted him. "Last semester? Dude, you hung out with us all last semester! When did you ever have time to make out with some guy from grade 12?!"

Kyle blushed again. Wow, this was beginning to become a trend. "Remember when I used to go to the library alone and study after class? And I told you guys I had to be alone because I'd never be able to get any work done?" He asked.

"Oh." I replied. "OH." I gave him a look. "You were fucking some guy instead?! And you never told me?!!"

"I wasn't fucking him!" Kyle defended himself. "Geez, we were only making out, that's all."

"And you never told me." I continued.

"I **couldn't**!" Kyle defended himself. "I was afraid you'd stop being my friend!"

"Since when did I ever stop being your friend Kyle?!" I yelled at him. I was on my feet now, illogically enraged about the entire thing. "I just wouldn't mind knowing when my best friend is getting pawed by some loser faggot, that's all!" I knew I shouldn't have said that the moment the words came out of my mouth. I gulped, but I couldn't take them back now. I **wanted** to take it back…

Kyle went extraordinarily pale at what I said. I could see he was practically trembling. He was silent for the longest time then finally he forced out a response. "He said… he said I was pretty." He whispered. And then he started to cry.

"Damn it, Kyle…" I said without malice, half exasperated, half ashamed at myself. I trekked over and sat down beside him on the bed, heaving a sigh as I did so. He continued to cry. I winced, then reached out and put a hand on his shoulder. When he didn't protest or shrug it off I drew him into a sideways hug. He cried against my shoulder for a while.

"I hate myself." He muttered when he had stopped crying and was just sniffling.

I sighed again, low and heavy. For the longest time I didn't know what to say and my brain shuffled through several different possible responses. Finally I settled on one and I spoke carefully. "Look, Kyle, this is just a slump in your life okay? Everyone has them." I went back in my memory, way back. "Do you remember back in grade 4 when Wendy dumped me and I thought my life was over?"

Kyle nodded against my shirt.

"And I was too full of self pity to realize how retarded I was being? And remember how you were the only one to come find me and tell me how stupid I was?"

Kyle nodded again. I could see a faint smile ghosting at the corner of his mouth.

"Well?" I asked.

He sat up, still smiling a bit and wiped his eyes. "So you're saying I'm being retarded right now." He let out a little laugh and gave me a grateful look. "I got it." He let out a tired sigh and laid back on his bed. He looked up at his ceiling, folding his hands behind his head as he did so.

"Hey Stan?" He asked after a moment or two.

"Yeah?" I replied.

He looked at me. "Thank you for, you know… everything."

I nodded and laid back on the bed to stare at the ceiling as well. "No problem." I reached out and patted him on the shoulder. "Any time."

-

God. What would I do without him? I mean, sexuality aside, he's my best friend. He means more to me than anything, I don't care what his sexual preference is. I couldn't help but to turn over how devastated I would be if he died in my mind as my mom silently drove me to the hospital.

All she had said was that someone found him in the school field and helped him to the school to phone for help. Kyle's mom had then taken him to the hospital, he had been in such bad shape when she had come to get him.

No one, and I do mean no one, said a word about why. It was always "These things happen" and "those boys will get suspended Stan," when I asked. Adults are so infuriating sometimes… SUSPENDED? They tried to kill him! But then they give each other knowing looks over my head and tell me it will be okay, and that Kyle only got into a fight. Apparently people only get suspended for getting into fights.

Okay my ass. If things were okay, my best friend wouldn't be lying in a hospital room right now looking like he just got trampled by the entire football team and lived to tell about it.

-

He smiled weakly when he saw me. "Hey Stan." He said.

I replied in one terse word. "Who." I was going to kill someone.

He frowned and looked off to the side. "I don't…"  
I grabbed his shoulder. "Tell me who did this Kyle."

He winced. "Stan please…" He began to tear up past swollen blackened eyes. Fuck.

I let go of his shoulder and took a step back, running my hands through my unkept black hair. I turned away. I needed to calm down. Rethink my approach. I have to be supportive to Kyle, not go Neanderthal on him and make him more miserable.

When I turned back I made it a point to try and listen to him instead. I made Kyle tell me everything of course, who what where, and so on, but I promised him I wouldn't do anything about it. Promised I wouldn't find those fucking jerks and make sure they ended up in the hospital as well.

Though I don't know why, exactly, he didn't want me to hunt them down and kill them… oh wait, I do. It's because Kyle is Kyle, and he has way too much heart. It's so damned frustrating sometimes…

"Well, on the positive side of things, I don't see any of them coming back to school after their suspensions are done." I told him when I had calmed down enough to speak rationally. They were deadbeat losers who often skipped school anyway. They spent more time outside the school smoking up than going to class.

Kyle nodded. He looked away again and studied the curtain which was strung up around his hospital bed.

I frowned. There was something he wasn't telling me about the entire thing. 'Kyle silence' and not looking me in the eye meant that he was either lying to me, or, more likely, holding something back. However if he wasn't going to tell me, I wasn't going to push it. He had already been through enough shit, you know?

-

The next day I had an argument with him. I went to school the next day… he stayed home to 'rest'. I figured it was best to get him back to his regular routine as fast as possible. Why? Because I was afraid that he'd slip into a depression and never want to go to school again. Kyle's not like me, he's an 'A' student. Even a couple days away would make his grades slip.

"FINE." I finally got him to agree as the argument moved from his bedroom to the kitchen. He poured himself a glass of water with a certain amount of forcefulness, his lips thinned in anger.

"Like, dude, I don't know what the big deal is. They're not even at school right now. It's the best time to come and show that you're not a little pussy…"

His head snapped up and he glared at me. "I said I'll go back Stan! Now leave me the fuck alone okay?"

He went to sit down at the kitchen table with his back turned to me. Instead of sitting like he was angry, like flopping down in the chair, or grinding the chair across the floor, he pulled the chair out carefully. Then he sat painstakingly… gingerly. My mouth opened slightly with shock as I put two and two together.

"Dude…" I said softly.

"What?" He grumbled. He was still too angry to realize what he had given away…

"I – I didn't know." I finally replied in a low voice, feeling a bit foolish. Like why hadn't I considered that as a possibility?

His head snapped around and he stared at me. Fear flashed across his face when he saw that I knew. "Stan?" He questioned.

I could only look back at him, feeling somewhat sickened. "You didn't…" I paused.

He winced and looked away again. He mumbled something about the doctor saying he'd be fine. Or something.

"Are… are you going to tell anyone?" I asked. Those expressive green eyes just stared at me. "What?" I asked, confused, in response to the look on his face.

Now he looked horrified. And panicky for some reason. "No dude! No." His eyes begged me to understand. He was whispering now, keeping his voice down so that other people in the house couldn't hear him, leaning closer to me so that only I could hear. "Please don't tell anyone Stan. I don't think I can live with it…" He gulped.

It took a lot of that inner strength shit, but I walked over to him and put a hand on his shoulder. Comfortingly. I could understand that. If I got fucked in the ass, the last thing I'd want was for people to know.

Kyle's second secret was safe with me.

Now I just had to work on preventing him from shattering and falling apart. That was going to be the hard part. I cleared my throat, shifting from foot to foot uncomfortably. Finally when enough silence had crept by, I spoke up. "About school tomorrow…" I began cautiously.

He sighed. "You're right," He said with resignation. "I should probably go."

I sighed. That was the response I wanted to hear, but… this was going to be hard on him. Beyond being a pussy and not wanting to go back 'cause someone kicked his ass, this whole entire situation was a little deeper than that. Even I could see that. I remembered the girl from grade 7… she skipped school a lot in the months following her rape. … And sometimes when she thought no one was looking, I could see her trying very hard to fight back tears. Oh, and there was the once at the grade 8 dance when a guy tried to feel her up and she screamed at him and hit him over the head with one of the side table cookie trays. Yup… this was going to be a **lot** more difficult to handle than I thought. "'Kay dude. You know if you need anything…"

Kyle merely nodded. "Yeah. I know. Thanks."

I got the feeling he wanted to be left alone then. I patted him on the back a couple times and quietly left the room.

-

Damn it! I thought to myself as I left his house. Why do horrible things have to happen to my friends? Was God trying to get us back for all the pranks we played on people as kids?

Heh. We played a lot of pranks, didn't we?

Pleasant thoughts about elementary school exploits couldn't keep my thoughts away from Kyle very long. Even mom and dad picked up that I was moping during dinner that night.

"I talked to Sheila this afternoon," My mother began conversationally.

I grunted in response.

"She says Kyle's doing much better today." She continued. "She also said you went over to visit Kyle, Stan, that was very nice of you…"

"I don't want to talk about it," I said abruptly.

My mom and Dad exchanged a knowing look over my head. "Hey Stan…" My dad began.

"I said I don't want to talk about it!" I snapped. Mom and Dad looked at each other again.

I couldn't take it anymore. I got up from the table. "I'll be in my room," I mumbled.

Yeah, this was bugging me more than I'd like it too.

-

Things slowly got better, thank God. The first day was rough, on Kyle more than me… I found out that Cartman had seen some of what happened to Kyle. And, what's more, he didn't do anything to help Kyle out, the sick stupid fuck. That's what I found out at lunch the next day when the fat asshole laid into Kyle about being a slut. I saw red then, but managed to keep it in as Kyle needed me more than my need to kick Cartman's ass right then.

I HAD intended to kick Cartman's ass afterwards if he kept it up, but amazingly, he shut up after that. He actually stopped teasing Kyle, at least for the most part.

I knew he was up to something. Then again, when isn't Cartman up to something? I was so used to it, I ignored him. I figured if he wasn't teasing Kyle, Kyle had one less thing to worry about.

God, I wish I had paid more attention.

Instead I spent the rest of the week making sure Kyle didn't fall apart in front of people, paying attention only to him. I was elated when two of the three boys didn't come back to school… and I threatened to kick the ass of the one boy who did. He was in our gym class… though he still made suggestive looks and kissy faces at Kyle from a distance, he learnt really fast that if he came anywhere NEAR Kyle he was going to loose his balls. And I was perfectly fine getting expelled for making him an eunuch. Luckily it never came to that… at least not during gym class.

I stopped paying so much to Kyle over time. I **could** have ghosted him everywhere, but Kyle wouldn't have liked that. I think having me have to defend him so much really bothered him, though he never said so directly. It was something that bugged him before he got his ass kicked… both Cartman and I shot up like weeds in the last year… Kyle was definitely on the smaller side compared to the other kids in the class. It bothered him that he had something else to prevent him from being able to play basketball. I kept on assuring him he would get taller, but when you're short NOW, assurances mean nothing. Especially empty ones.

We started drifting apart about a month after the incident. Again, I just wasn't paying good enough attention. He kept on telling me he wanted to be alone, and that he had a lot of catching up on homework to do. I wanted to give him his space, so I let him do his own thing. He told me he was fine, but if he needed anything, he'd call me.

October turned into November. The Halloween dance came and went. The football team went to the state championships and came back again, a gloating Cartman in tow.

I pounded on Kyle's door a couple of times and convinced him to come out and play laser tag or play multiplayer video games at my house, but he was quiet during those times and I could tell he wasn't really enjoying himself. I finally backed off completely. I felt a bit like I had been abandoned by my best friend. He's been through a lot, I convinced myself as I hung out with Kenny instead. I half hoped that he would see me with Kenny and get jealous, but he didn't seem to notice. As November dragged on, I kinda stopped going anywhere near Kyle at all. I did it for a very important reason… if I went near Kyle I knew I would get in an argument with him about how he wasn't hanging around with me anymore. I was bitter.

At the same time everyone at school had finally shut up about Kyle's sexuality as new scandals involving various students came to light. Trent stopped coming to school, and a rumor going around told me he had moved to Denver. Now I really didn't have a reason to hang out with Kyle, even in gym class. And, for some reason, Cartman had started actually being NICE to Kyle. It was odd to watch, and it was obvious that Kyle found him repulsive and irritating, yet they sat next to each other at lunch now. Cartman even shared his lunch with him, which was extremely out of character for the fatass. Even though Kyle accepted everything Cartman gave him listlessly, I was upset he was hanging out with Cartman, who, up until a couple weeks ago, had hated him. I **pretended** that didn't bother me… but it did. It also made me more determined to spend all my time with Kenny.

-

I found out about what Cartman was doing to Kyle near the end of November, about a month after I should have found out about it if I had been a good friend.

I had just gotten out of my stupid after school study group. I was making my way past the rarely used physical education classrooms, when I heard a pair of voices speaking down a narrow set of stairs. I wouldn't have stopped, but the voices sounded familiar. One of them especially.

Cartman?

I frowned and made my way down the stairs. I don't know why I chose to go down them quietly, it just seemed to be a good idea. Especially when I recognized the second voice.

Kyle. Well, maybe if I saw them together I could figure out why on earth Kyle had decided to hang out with Cartman instead of me for the last month or so…

The door at the bottom of the stairs was closed. There was a tiny window on the door, one I could see past if I wanted to… it was just at eyelevel height. I tried to hear what Kyle and Cartman were saying before peeking into the room, but they had gone silent about when I reached the bottom of the steps. Frowning deeper I stood up on my tip toes and peeked inside.

It took me a moment to find them. They were up against the right side wall, Kyle's body all but covered by Cartman's ample bulk. For a moment I thought Cartman was threatening him, with him up against the wall like that… but then I noticed the way they were moving. And Cartman's face was too close to Kyles… they must have been…

Oh GOD!

I dropped like a stone into a crouch, my eyes wide with absolute disbelief. What. The. FUCK?!

I had stand up to look again. It was like watching a train wreck. They had moved to the floor. I could only watch with horror as Cartman sat up enough to fiddle with his belt…

I couldn't take it. I bolted. Took the stairs two at a time. RAN all the way back to South Park, despite the town being over three miles away from the high school. I was nearly sick twice during that run. I had no fucking idea…

-

I needed to talk to him. No matter how betrayed I felt, or angry… there was something fucked up about the entire thing. I wanted him to look at me in the eye and tell me he was fucking Cartman. And then I wanted him to tell me WHY, exactly. And then I wanted to hit him again and again until I knocked some sort of sense into him…

Gerald Broflovski answered the door when I got to his house. I panted for breath and demanded to see Kyle.

Kyle's dad blinked. "He's not home from study group yet Stan." He said.

I coughed at that. Bullshit he was at study group.

"… But you can come in and wait for him if you'd like," He added, a concerned look on his face. He gestured for me to come in past him. "Is everything okay?"

"Fine. Just fine Mr. Broflovski. Thanks." I replied, tight lipped. So fine in fact that your gay son has apparently lost his mind. Or became the biggest slut in the entire school. Either one…

-

Kyle didn't notice me at first when he came into his room. He sighed as he dropped his book bag on the floor, then took off his winter hat, tossing it on top of his bag.

He looked tired. Very tired in fact. I would have felt sorry for him if I wasn't so pissed off.

I cleared my throat. He nearly jumped through the roof.

"Stan!" He gasped when he had stopped being startled enough to speak. He stared at me where I sat on his bed. "What—what are you doing here?" He added, wide eyed.

I folded my arms across my chest, glowering. "Waiting." I replied tersely.

Now he looked confused. "For what?" He asked. "What is it Stan?"

I frowned and narrowed my eyes at him. "I saw you." I replied. I gritted my teeth before I could spit out the rest. "With Cartman."

Well, that got a reaction at least. He went from staring at me with wideeyed confusion to turning completely white. He even stumbled a bit as he reached behind himself and fumbled the door closed.

"I—Stan, I can explain." He said in a strained whisper as soon as the door was shut.

"Please do Kyle!" I replied with as much venom as I could muster. I got up and stalked towards him, which actually made him shrink back a bit. "I really would like to know how you went from hating Cartman to letting him fuck you." I snapped. We were circling each other now… or rather I was walking forwards and he kept on walking backwards. "Really. Did getting fucked in the ass turn you into a whore? Who else are you fucking Kyle? Does Clyde get in on the fun too? How about Token?"

That hurt. I could tell by the expression on his face. Too bad I was too pissed off to care. "Stan!" He started, his voice cracking. "_Please_…"

I lunged forwards, using my larger size and weight to drive him back onto the bed. I pinned him beneath me with ease. "Please? Please WHAT Kyle. Fuck you?" I punched him in the face, making him yelp in pain. "I'm not a fucking faggot, jewboy." What was I doing? It was like I couldn't stop… every repressed emotion from the last 6 months… hell, last 6 YEARS were coming back to bite me in the ass.

He started to cry. I hit him again, and gripped his jaw. "Stop being a fucking pussy Kyle." I spat. "What on earth were you thinking?!"

He just blubbered with his eyes tightly shut and tried to shake his head. When he got a hold of himself enough to gasp for breath he spoke. "I—I couldn't…" He shook his head again and began to cry harder.

I could tell I had gone too far the moment I felt the urge to hit him again and again until he stopped crying. Until he stopped _breathing_. I saw a part of myself then that I never saw before and never wanted to see again. More than a bit horrified, I let go of him and shimmied off of him as well. I was trembling. Fuck. _Fuck!_

I sat beside him on the bed, my arms around my knees as I looked at him until he regained control. He stopped crying and instead made the occasional choking sounds as he stared at the ceiling.

"Kyle?" I questioned softly after enough time had passed.

He looked at me and managed a tiny smile. "Dude," he said. "I thought you were going to kill me."

I made a face. "Just tell me what's going on, 'kay?" I replied, a bit desperately. "That's all I want to know." Tell me why being with Cartman is more important than being with me…

He sighed and turned over on his side, his back to me. After a long drawn out pause he spoke in a low voice. "I enjoy it Stan." He cringed, like he expected to be hit again.

No. There was no way. I had to slide off the bed and make my way to him so that I could see his face. "I don't believe you." I replied as I crouched down to be eye level with him. "Him telling you that you enjoy it and you enjoying it are two different things Kyle."

He sat up and sighed, rubbing at an eye tiredly. "He's nice to me now." He mumbled. "He doesn't hurt me…" He started crying again, his shoulders shaking with silent sobs. "He d-doesn't even c-call me bad names anymore…"

Oh God.

I climbed onto the bed and grasped the back of his head, moving him so that I could see his face. "He's really fucked you up." I observed. I had never seen Kyle like this before. Not even two months ago. He was a regular fucking basket case right now. Tears ran hotly down his cheeks, over mottled skin.

"I'm sorry." I said. I leaned forwards and wrapped my arms around him. His back heaved as he continued to sob silently into my shirt. That's all I could say, really. I should have noticed something before now.

I'm a horrible friend. That's what I learned about myself that day. An absolute horrible terrible friend. I let my friend get raped and then left him to get raped again by a manipulative asshole who only cares about his own self gratification.

A sharp knock on Kyle's door startled us both. "Kyle?" Sheila Broflovski's voice came through the door. We both wrenched away from each other quick enough that we were on opposite sides of the bed when the door opened.

Sheila frowned at me before looking at her son. "I heard you two arguing in here." She said. Then she caught sight of her son's face. "Kyle!" She exclaimed, coming into the room. "Are you okay? What's wrong baby?"

"I'm fine, mom." Kyle muttered under his breath. I could tell he was horribly embarrassed… it was bad enough when Mrs. Broflovski babied him when he was eight, let alone when he was 14.

Unfortunately Kyle's mom decided that I was the source of her baby's torment. "I think you should go home now Stan." She told me sternly as she hovered protectively over her son.

"Yeah, okay Mrs. Broflovski." I said, sliding off the bed. Kyle shot me a desperate 'Help me!' look, but I was used to looks like that from him where his mother was involved.

"I'll see you tomorrow Kyle," I said. I grabbed my bag from where I left it in the corner of the room.

I heard an exasperated "Mom I'm fine!" from Kyle as I made my way down the hall. "We just had an argument, that's all! Jesus Christ…"

"Well he's obviously not a very good friend if he made you cry, now is he?" Sheila's voice carried loud and clear. I rolled my eyes.

"I'm not the friend you need to be worried about," I muttered to myself as I made my way out of Kyle's house.


	3. Tenderness

**Author's Notes**: I am still afraid that this fic will be deleted off of this site, even though I've been striving not to go into too much detail on the sex scenes. The subject matter is still fairly dark. If this fic does get deleted, I will start posting to adult fanfiction dot net, under the username "spacefille").

Some Kyle/Stan crept into this fic. I didn't expect that.

Enjoy!

-  
Chapter 3  
**Tenderness  
**_Kyle's point of view_

The first time I ever had sex I was 13. Yeah, it may seem a little young, but Stan got laid at 11, so I was a bit behind the times. But hey, I beat Cartman… that's good right?

I had sex with Riley… a 12th grade boy. I never told anyone… except Stan… and it wasn't until all the crap happened to me in December of grade 9 that I told him that Riley and I had 'done it'.

For a while Stan thought the first time I ever 'had sex' was when three boys jumped me at the beginning of grade 9. In actuality my first time was a lot more pleasant.

Riley used to sit on the edge of the school field during lunch, usually reading a book. He sat with a bunch of other 12th graders who seemed to like to play card games … he didn't participate. I think he just sat there so that he didn't stick out too much as a freak with no friends. Sometimes he would pause in his reading to tuck a lock of shoulder length black hair behind his ear. Other times he would look up and glance around the school field, almost as if to make sure it was still there, then go back to reading his book.

During the first couple weeks of grade 8, when it was still warm enough to go outside during lunch, a bunch of us used to play tag football. That about the time I made the mistake of telling Cartman that he was too fat to play football on the school team. You know, the mistake that ended up causing Cartman to actually start exercising which ended up leading to him joining the football team in grade 9? Yeah. In retrospect, I should have kept my mouth shut and let Cartman continue to lead his existence as a fat annoying bastard, instead of a fat annoying STRONG bastard.

Oh well.

Beginning of grade 8… that was also the time that I noticed Riley looking at me.

He wasn't doing it in a mean way, or a threatening way or anything. I would just occasionally glance over to where he sat after someone tackled me, or I made a touch down or whatever and see him looking back at me with an introspective look on his face. Whenever our eyes met he would instantly bury his head back into his book.

When October came around and we all started having lunch inside the school because of the cold, I didn't see him for the longest time. It wasn't until half way through November that I bumped into him in the library. I had just finished studying for an important test the next day… I could see by the science text books laid out in front of him that he was studying for a test as well.

Our eyes met briefly over the pile of books. He smiled at me. I smiled back and ducked my head, intent on continuing on towards the library doors without being noticed too much.

He called me back. "Hey… kid." He said.

I stopped and trekked back to where he sat. "Yeah?" I replied, curious to know what he wanted.

He smiled at me, and closed the text book he was currently holding. The way he smiled… it was nice. Like he actually cared. "What's your name?" He asked.

"Kyle." I replied.

"What grade are you in Kyle?" He asked.

I hopped into a chair next to his. "Eight." I said.

He raised an eyebrow at that. "Eight? Wow." He shook his head slightly. "You're younger than I thought!"

"I'm almost 14!" I defended myself. "How old are you?"

He smiled again, and it was then that I noticed how brilliant and blue his eyes were from beneath his mop of long black hair. "17." He replied.

"Oh." I fiddled with my cap, which I had been about to put on before he called me over. It was only a four year age difference… but when you're in high school, four years is a lot. Riley was **old**.

He held his hand out to me suddenly. "My name's Riley." He said.

I took his hand. He held on to it just a tiny bit longer than I expected him too. It made me feel funny, him touching my hand like that.

By feeling funny, I mean I felt an odd fluttering in my tummy. It was accompanied by the feeling that I was floating, that I was on the verge of something indescribable.

I took my hand back from his, blushing.

He was looking at me again, with the same introspective look he had given me back in September. I blushed again and shifted uneasily in my chair. "Um, well, I should probably be getting back…" I made a motion to leave.

He reached out again, almost as if he didn't hear me. I sat absolutely still and a little bit shocked, as he reached out and tweaked a tightly coiled lock of my hair. "You're very pretty," He said suddenly.

Any other circumstance I would have ran away from that situation as fast as I could. But there was something about Riley… something that wasn't threatening. Like he was merely making an observation, not saying I was pretty to humiliate me, or embarrass me or anything like that.

I licked suddenly dry lips and choked out a "thanks". Besides that I didn't move. I just sat there on the chair with some 12th grader I had just met tangling his fingers in my hair and observing me like I was some fascinating artifact or something.

Then, in a singularly anti-climatic fashion, he let go of my hair. He sat back in his chair and gave me another kind smile. "It was nice to meet you Kyle." He said.

"Uh. Yeah. You too." With that I took off out of the library as fast as I could go without making it look like I was running away from him.

I must have jerked off 15 times that night. Even though I knew that I would never be able to look Riley in the eyes again, I couldn't help myself. God damned hormones.

He was in the library a lot in the couple weeks that followed. I kept on peeking over the top of my text book to see if he was still in the spot he usually sat. He was, but frustratingly enough, he never looked at me again. Just kept on studying like nothing was wrong, like he had never even introduced himself to me. I was so frustrated and so completely unable to study that I finally gave up.

Then, randomly, one day after trying and failing to study I ran into him when walking back from the corner store. I had intended to go back inside and call my mom to come get me when I saw his familiar figure coming towards me on the sidewalk.

I froze. Honest to god, I lost the ability to use the muscles in my legs for a short time.

He looked up when he was nearly in front of me. And smiled. "Hello Kyle." He said, stopping. "Are you heading home now?"

I stared at him. My mouth opened. Not a sound came out. All I could focus on was how he towered over me. And how incredibly hot he looked. And…

His smile faltered slightly. The look on his face turned to one of mild concern. "Are you all right?" He asked.

I still stood there speechless. God, he was going to think I was retarded or something…

He leaned down so that his face was closer to mine and grasped my upper arm gently. "Kyle?" He questioned.

I don't know why I did it, but later I was very glad I did. I leaned up and kissed him on the mouth. At about the same time my legs unstuck.

I ran like hell.

He caught up to me before I could even made it past where the short stop would have been if the school field wasn't covered in snow. Caught me and spun me around, tried to get me to look at him. I fought him like my life depended on it, because as far as I knew it did. I had just kissed a 17 year old boy who had a good foot of height on me. He was going to kill me.

I said as much. "Don't kill me!" I shouted at him, flailing at him with my fists. "Don't! Ahh!"

"Kyle!" He fought to catch my wrists before my fists could connect. "Hey, stop it…"

We went down then, rolling about in the snow for a bit before he managed to subdue me. By subdue me, I mean pinning me beneath him and bringing my face around to look him in the eye.

"I'm not going to hurt you kid." He actually looked somewhat hurt.

I huffed and panted for breath. "Y- you're not?" I managed.

"No." He sat up, then stood, taking me with him. Once standing he brushed some of snow off of my jacket.

I was still staring at him. "Dude." I said, a bit awestruck. "I kissed you."

He grinned. "Yes… you did." He replied. There was laughter in his voice. "May I kiss you back?" He asked, giving me a very solemn look now.

My knees nearly gave out at that. "Oh. O-okay." I managed.

He leaned down and kissed me on the lips. I very quickly became aware of wet. And heat. And ohmygod it felt so good…

A couple weeks went by. I met him on the school field nearly everyday after class where we'd go to a small grove of trees and when we were certain no one was looking, proceed to make out.

There was almost a sense of urgency to what we were doing… he told me his parents were moving soon and he was going to go with them. I might not have the opportunity to do this again… especially in a tiny red neck town like South Park.

We had sex a couple days before Riley had to move to Denver. His parents were out of town that night, working out the last details on the house. Riley offered to drive me home from school that day in the car he borrowed for the week from his mom… but instead of going to my house we went to his instead.

I felt the thrill of doing something horribly wrong when he drove the entire way to his house from the school with his hand in my lap. He had felt me up before of course, but now, sitting in the passenger seat of his parent's car, it felt naughty. He parked out side of his house and turned off the car, then returned his hand to my crotch. He watched me with his intense blue eyes as he rubbed the front of my jeans. I tried to suppress a moan, and let my head fall back against the seat. Oh god, if he kept it up, I was going to come in my pants.

Then he did the most incredible thing ever. He unbuckled and leaned over me. A few deft movements later he had my pants unzipped and my penis in his mouth.

I came in less than a minute, flushed, with eyes desperately trained on the street hoping that no one would walk by and see a 8th grade boy getting a blow job from a 12th grade boy. I really didn't want to have to explain that one to some cops, seeing as I wasn't even 14 yet. Yes, I wanted him to touch me and do everything he was doing to me, but I knew enough to know that he would be in major shit if he was discovered. I didn't want him to get into trouble either… he was a really _nice_ child molester/boyfriend, not to mention that he was doing the most amazing things to my body…

He invited me into the house, and we went to his room. Most of his stuff was already packed in boxes, but apparently he kept some, uh, supplies available. My mom was phoned and told I was staying over at a friends' house, and then we proceeded to have sex no less than five times in a row. He was very considerate, he never pushed me, but I wanted to know and learn and discover. We hardly talked either, just fooled around until we were too exhausted to have sex any longer, then kept on finding new ways to have sex anyway. And when he fucked me, he made sure I was well prepared ahead of time… it barely hurt at all and ended up being far more pleasurable than I could have imagined.

Looking back on the entire thing, I'm very glad my first time wasn't face down in the dirt barely able to breath and quite certain that I was going to die. … Or with Eric Cartman. Fuck.

I miss him.

I was crushed, though I tried not to show it, when he left. He didn't keep in touch… there was nothing, really, we shared in common anyway. We didn't even chat over the Internet… it wasn't really his thing. But I was grateful I had met him anyway.

In September of grade 9 I was jumped. It was and it wasn't expected… I knew the rumors had been going around the school since the end of spring semester that I was gay. I knew that inevitably someone would try to kick my ass because of it.

They jumped me as I was walking back from the corner store with a slushie in hand. (I will now never go get a slushie after classes again. Ever.) I knew I was in trouble the moment that they stepped between me and the school and wouldn't let me pass. I tried to reason with them. I even told them my mom was coming to get me soon. Anything I said they laughed off as they surrounded me, jeering.

Most of their insults were of the calling me a little Jewish whore who liked to take it up the ass variety. Yada yada blah blah blah, I'd heard the anti-Semitic comments a million times before from Cartman. And the anti-gay comments I got enough of in the locker room during the last half a year that they didn't faze me much either.

What did get me was the fact that there were three of them, and two of them were considerably bigger than I. One I could take in a fight. Two I could possibly run away from. Three? Not a chance. I was doomed.

After they were done beating on me, they dragged me to that grove at the end of the school field. I remembered feeling dread that they'd beat the shit out of me more and leave me to die in a puddle of my own vomit or something. The trees were secluded enough that I was worried that no one would find me until it was too late. I decided, then and there that I would do my utmost to stay conscious enough to yell for help when they had finished beating the shit out of me. I had to be able to call for help…

That was before I found out what they really wanted to do with me. They were going to fuck me, and they punctuated their words with trying to get me out of my clothes.

I struggled even harder then because I knew that there was an even better chance that I was going to die if I didn't get free. I saw things like this in the news all the time. My remains were going to be found somewhere, and the news reports would be like "Just another gay kid found beaten to death; a tragedy that he decided to adopt such a lifestyle and get himself killed…" and the post script would read that the dead kid was raped repeatedly before he was tortured to death.

Which is why I was so relieved to see Cartman. I thought… wrongly of course, that he would do something. That, somewhere in his horribly small and self centered heart he'd find the inkling to help me, and probably save my life in the process.

No dice. Cartman got a good laugh, I got fucked in ass. Life isn't fair is it?

Jesus saved me… or rather the guy who used to play Jesus on the "Jesus and Pals" show saved me. I hurt so badly that I couldn't move let alone stand after they had left… I honestly don't know how he saw me… maybe he heard me groaning in pain or something. Anyway, he came trekking over from the sidewalk and discovered me in the bushes there and helped me out to the school. The rest blurred after that… next thing I know Stan is standing over my hospital bed demanding to know who they were so that he could kill them.

I didn't want Stan to get involved. I never did. It's my fight, not his… my problem, not his. I know Stan… I know he has a bit of his dad in him… he'd end up getting into a stupid fight defending me and end up getting himself hurt in the process. I hate seeing my friends hurt. I hate seeing anyone hurt, but seeing Stan hurt…

I could get fucked, battered, broken and left for dead, but I think something inside me would die if anything happened to Stan because of me.

Besides not wanting Stan to fight, I also had a couple reasons for not wanting him to get involved. First reason? One of the boys, I think it was Cory, told me that they'd do it all again if I told anyone… except next time they'd kill me. I didn't want to risk messing around with them… I was willing to let it go. They could go away feeling all manly that they 'put me in my place', and I could start trying to piece my life back together and try to forget what they did to me.

Second reason sucks a whole lot more than that. Second reason has been buried by years of denial and will continue to be buried for the rest of my life. Second reason is the fact that I have a crush on Stan. Had a crush on Stan. Whatever.

That one isn't necessarily a hard one to figure out… we did spend every waking moment of our lives together. In grade 6 I realized I was staring at his cute stubborn nose and gorgeous blue eyes during class instead of working on my assignments. I decided I needed to cool it or else I was going to loose him as a friend.

I started by stopping the things that we did together that could be dangerous… the first thing to go was having sleepovers together and sharing a bed like we were still five. If we had to stay over at each other's houses one of us slept in a sleeping bag on the floor. I told him I was too old to share a bed now. Stan accepted that at face value like he always does.

My attraction to my best friend is a little white lie to add to the several I've told Stan over the years to protect him from things he doesn't have to know. I said 'Craig' that one day when I told him I was gay to throw him off of thinking I like him. Because I don't. Because I know he's off limits. And, well, after denial of several years, these things can be suppressed. He's still Stan my best friend, who sucks at relationships with girls despite the entire Wendy thing, and I'm his intellectual fun-loving best friend who just happens to be gay. No biggie.

It still hurt when he found out about what really happened. I didn't want him to know. I was tired of having to lie, sure, but lying and keeping it all inside hurt less than knowing that Stan knows.

Though I have to admit I'm very thankful he was understanding. I should have realized he would be… he was understanding both when I told him I was gay, and the first time I told him about Riley. Sorta. (Well actually when he first found out about Riley he threw an angry fit that I was getting molested...it was very sweet.)

Actually Stan, over all, was much more understanding than I thought he would be. I mean Stan has always been an extremely, uh, _heterosexual_ guy. He doesn't access his feelings nearly as easily as I do, for one, or even Cartman does when he shows that he actually has feelings. But Stan… he's had problems expressing himself for nearly as long as I remember. I just naturally assumed that he'd turn on me if I cried in front of him, and instead of being supportive and stuff, he'd just retreat.

But he didn't. And I cried a lot after he found out I was gay, and even more when I got jumped. It's very comforting to cry on Stan. He's very solid. I can't cry around almost anyone else, even around my parents it's hard, but for some reason the moment Stan is around, all my emotions want to escape.

He's a very good friend that way. Even so, I couldn't tell him about Cartman. I was too ashamed. Stan wouldn't have forgiven himself if he found out I had gotten jumped again and he couldn't defend me. I know Stan. It would eat him up inside.

I was also still afraid that he'd retreat completely and leave me without a support in my life. And after time went by, I realized Stan couldn't know for a different reason. What would Stan think if I told him I didn't even try to resist Cartman's advances after the first couple times? That somehow I somewhat enjoyed what Cartman was doing to me? He couldn't possibly understand that. He would think I was a freak. Hell, I thought I was a freak…

Anyway.

It was my own damn fault I got jumped the second time… I missed the buses home back to South Park that day. I was angry and because of it I wasn't even thinking clearly. I should have realized that it would probably be safer for me to make my way around the side of the school that faced the main street as opposed to the side that faced the play ground. Even if it was shorter distance to the doors that had the phone.

Trent, who had resigned himself to making kissy faces at me in gym class was standing there against the side of the building smoking a cigarette.

"Hey, it's the little faggot!" He called out, approaching me. At the same time he tossed his cigarette to the ground and ground it out beneath his heel.

"Oh god damn it," I muttered under my breath. I was in serious shit.

"Hey baby," he continued, winking and licking his lips. "I've missed you…"

"I'm sure." I retorted. With that I picked off and RAN.

I almost got to the doors before he did. Almost. I would have made it if he wasn't originally between me and the school building. He tackled me and we both went down.

"Let me go!" I shouted at him. "LET ME GO!" My boot connected with his jaw… his fist connected with my stomach. I doubled over and he got another couple good head shots in. I think I would have been able to get away if he hadn't managed to disorientate me so excellently.

Next thing I know I'm shoved up against the wall, with the fucker trying to stick his tongue down my throat. I kicked him in the crotch. That didn't seem to work… he merely slammed me up against the wall a couple times. When I cried out in pain, he pressed an arm across my throat, blocking off my airway. At the same time a hand wound up on my crotch and began to squeeze.

Not again. I began to struggle anew, which only made Trent smirk and press his forearm harder against my neck.

I relaxed. I had to or else I was going to end up passing out. I tried to breathe properly past his arm as he continued to do whatever the hell he wanted to me.

Like trying to kiss me sloppily. I tried to twist my face away, disgusted. Fuck, I hated this…

That was when I saw him.

Why oh why, was it always Cartman? Cartman, of all people, was just standing there, like he had just happened upon the scene and looked a little bit shocked.

I didn't expect him to do anything. I just looked at him as best I could and silently willed him to go away.

… Go away Cartman, go back to your happy Jew-hating existence and let me die in peace.

And then he surprised the shit out of me by coming out and telling Trent to get away from me.

What the fuck?

Cartman… Cartman who left me to die last time, Cartman who's hated me since grade fucking 4, knocked Trent out cold for me.

I was so shocked I passively let him haul me into the school and away from where we left Trent unconscious.

I should have known Cartman had ulterior motives. This is Cartman we're talking about.

But I don't think anything could have quite have surprised me more as to what Cartman's motivation really was.

School was torture the next day. Especially when Cartman completely ignored my command to stay away from me and proceeded to do the exact opposite. As soon as he saw me he sidled up to me and asked how I was. I told him exactly where to go and how to get there. He passed a note back to me in English class which merely read "Hey Kyle". I crumpled it up and threw it at the back of his head. (Then I got yelled at by the teacher for throwing paper. Fuck.)

When he sat next to me during lunch and offered me a cookie, I told him to fuck off. I wasn't going to forgive him for what he did to me, and being nice to me wasn't going to work.

Stan, who had taken up sitting next to Kenny, looked up at me and gave me a quick questioning look. I shook my head "no". He went back to talking to Kenny. He had been talking to Kenny a lot lately. I suppose he thought I was fine now.

Oh God. For the first time I thought to myself how much I couldn't tell Stan. I would _die_ if he knew I had sex with Cartman…

I glanced at Cartman. He was smirking at me… his eyes narrowed. Thinking. Planning. And it was about me. I felt suddenly sick and excused myself from the table.

This time Stan didn't follow me. I was alone.

I tried the avoidance thing by making sure I was always surrounded by other friends… heck, I even spent a day hanging out with Butters, even though we have nothing in common and nothing to talk about. (We just played video games the entire time.)

Making sure I was surrounded by people when not at home didn't work either. Fucking bastard showed up on my doorstep two days later. He convinced my mom of a sob story about us being in a group together at school and desperately needing Kyle, her brilliant son, to come out and help him on the project. I was kicked out of the house and into Cartman's care before I could offer up a protest.

"What do you want dough boy," I said as I grumpily followed him down the street.

"Why Kyle," He said, turning around to smirk at me. "I thought you would have figured that out by now." God, I hated that holier than thou voice he used. "I want you, Kyle."

What? I glowered at him, my hands balling into fists within my pockets. "Well you can't have me Cartman!" I snapped.

He stopped then, I stopped too. "Ah Kyle… you don't realize…" His chin lowered and the look on his face darkened. "I already have you."

My fists emerged from my pockets. "You do NOT fat ass." And then I lunged at him.

He stepped aside. Fuck! I spun around and got a good shot in on his jaw before he could hit me. He grabbed my arm, I punched his face again, and we went down. I almost managed to kick the fat fuck off of me when he grabbed my balls.

HARD. And he _squeezed_.

I froze for a microsecond and let out a blood curling yowl. I reached out with my hand, desperate to grab something sensitive of his to convince him to let go of me.

Cartman had this planned. He sat up so that the only part of our bodies that were connected was his fist and my crotch and with his crotch twisted far enough away that I couldn't reach it.

"Give it up Kyle." He said as I struggled. "It's just going to make it hurt worse."

"Fuck you Cartman!" I screamed at him. I pounded against him inefficiently with my fists. God damned flab… I couldn't even hurt him… at least not at this angle…

He started talking like it was perfectly normal to be sitting on the sidewalk holding another guy by the crotch.

"Look Kyle. There are two very simple options here. First option - you continue to be a stupid stubborn Jew and you loose your balls. Second option - I let you go… and you follow me home and I promise that things will start sucking less for you."

"That's not an option Cartman!" I yelled. "I'm NOT going home with you! Let me GO, god damn you!"

He continued like I hadn't even spoke. "I cringe to think of what the people at school would think if they knew what a gay Jewish slut you are." He inspected the fingernails of his unoccupied hand. In the meantime, my nuts were going numb. "I think they'll be very interested to know that you like to get blow jobs from 12th grade boys like a little whore…"

I turned white. "How do you know about that?" I demanded to know. I started to hit and kick him and he finally let me go. Now he faced me as I scrambled into a sitting position, a knowing smirk on his face.

"I make it my business to know all about you Kyle." He said.

I felt a chill sweep through me.

I stood carefully. He stood as well, standing between me and my house. For a long moment I just stared at him, while he smirked back. Finally I kicked at a pebble on the sidewalk. "Screw it Cartman." I said. "You can't scare me… I'm going home."

He almost let me pass before he said something that froze me in my tracks. "I'm sure your parents will be happy to know that their perfect son has sex with older men." He commented. "Yeah, that's really going to make their week… oh wait a sec… their lives."

I turned back around to face him slowly. "You wouldn't." I said tonelessly.

He knew he won. I could tell by the way his smirk changed to one a little bit more triumphant. "I won't if you give me what I want." He said serenely.

I took a step closer to him, trying vainly to disguise the fact that I was trembling with both fear and rage. "You disgusting bastard." I sneered at him. "Why the hell do you want me anyway, Cartman?" I asked point blank. "I'm beginning to think you're gay or something."

That sickeningly sweet Cartman smirk didn't even falter. "Maybe I am," He replied as he stepped closer to me. Yeah, right, whatever. OR he was just fucking with me.

I drew in a sharp breath as he took one last step towards me and snaked his arm around my waist. Then he kissed me, which would have been grosser if he slobbered, but he didn't. Didn't stop me from glaring at him when he pulled away. "I hate you." I told him point blank.

"You'll learn to like me eventually Kyle." He said. The way he said it, like it was a statement of fact. I glared at his backside as he actually turned around and started walking towards his house.

I just stood there on the pavement with my mouth hanging slightly open as he continued to walk away from me. "Dude!" I said finally in utter disbelief. "Do you just expect me to follow you to your house?"

"Yes," His reply wafted back at me.

"Like HELL!" I screamed at his backside.

"Oh you will follow me Kyle." His voice was sing song now. "You'll follow me, or your life becomes very unpleasant. Your choice."

I let almost a half a block get between us before I realized he wasn't going to drag me… I was going to have to follow him under my own will power.

"Goddamnedsonofabitch." I muttered under my breath as I started walking.

Manipulative asshole. I pitied the poor girl who ever got involved with Cartman… then I realized I was probably that girl and nearly wrenched out my hair with anger.

I was still trembling with anger when we got to Cartman's house. I kicked off my boots and yanked off my jacket. I could barely nod at Mrs. Cartman as I followed Cartman down the hall to his room. He silently let me in and shut the door behind us, then locked it.

I barely noticed. Instead I sat on the very edge of his bed, my hands balled in fists of rage, staring straight ahead. I thought of the many ways I could perhaps kill him as he silently shuffled though his draws of his desk and closet, obviously looking for something. My brain came up short. I couldn't kill the bastard… he didn't even have a fucking baseball bat in his room.

He turned back around to face me and looked me up and down. He almost seemed clinical about it, he was looking at me like I was a patient at a doctor's office, not someone he's known for several years and hated for nearly all of them.

"Take off your clothes." He said finally.

"No. Fuck you." The reply was instantaneous.

He raised an eyebrow. "I can't unless you take of your clothes." He said in a super logical tone of voice.

"I'm not taking of my clothes." I said, folding my arms across my chest stubbornly.

He rolled his eyes. "Kyle." He said, taking a step towards me. "Need I remind you why you are here?" He frowned. "Don't make this any more difficult on yourself than you have too."  
I glared at him. "Fuck off."

"All right," He sighed and went for his door. "I guess I'll just have to call your parents and let them know what their son's been up too."

That got my attention. I unfolded my arms and slammed my fists into his mattress. "This is blackmail Cartman." I hissed through clenched teeth.

He turned back around and looked at me. "That would be the general idea Kyle."

"I hate you." I said again.

"I don't really care." He pretended to yawn and glanced at his watch. "You have thirty seconds before I leave this room and go find a phone." He added.

I didn't move for nearly 20 of those 30 seconds. He looked bored as he scratched his upper arm, glanced at his watch again, looked around the room, picked lint off of his shirt, looked at his watch again...

"God damn it. FINE." I gave him one last death glare, raised my arm and began to take off my shirt.

"Lay back on the bed." He ordered once I was done.

It took a bit of struggling with myself, but I finally did. The comforter smelt like lemon scented laundry detergent. I stared at the ceiling. My hands were still fists at my sides. I breathed deeply a couple times, focused on the patterns in the paint up there. I refused to look at him. I didn't want to think about this… I just wanted to be a million miles away.

I ended up being jerked back to reality when he hovered over me with a cloth in his hands. I tried to sit up abruptly when his hands descended over my eyes. "Dude, what the hell?" I questioned.

By trying to sit up, he was able to bring the cloth around the sides of my head. I began to twisting to get free. Like hell I was going to let him blind fold me. "Dude NO!" I shouted at him.

He held the cloth against the sides of my head with a vice like grip. "Stop being such a baby Kyle," He said, scorn in his voice. "It's not going to hurt you. It's just a fucking blindfold."

I stopped struggling… a bit. "I don't want to be blind folded." I told him stubbornly.

"Kyle." His face was close to mine now, I could smell his breath. It smelt like mint toothpaste. "Kyle listen to me. You don't want to be here, right?"

"Congratulations fatass, you got it." I would have been glaring at him if I could see.

"Then why don't you make it easier on yourself and let me do this." He tugged on the cloth, bringing the sides together and began to tie them behind my head.

I tried to wrench my head away again, beating my fists against his still clothed arms. "No Cartman, **no**."

"Shh, Kyle." He said softly. "I told you already. I'm not going to hurt you. I promise." He finished the knot and just held the sides of my head in his large warm hands. "Just lay back and pretend..." His lips pressed against mine again… gently. I relaxed by degrees, still blind folded and now blinking back tears against the cloth. He was right. It was easier for me to just pretend.

You know what's funny? Once I stopped associating Cartman with what he was doing to my body, I kinda found it relaxing. I mean he was actually gentle. It was horrible, but he actually reminded me of Riley a bit… he took the time to make sure I was prepared before he did anything… well oiled and prepared. And he didn't smell, (who would have expected that the fatass bathed frequently?), so I couldn't even be repulsed by that.

The first time he fucked me… I expected the illusion to break. I expected the world's dirtiest words to flow from that mouth… that he'd call me a gay pussy slut and a whore and all such other things. What I didn't expect was the slow gentle process I actually got.

That made me tear up again… thank god I was blindfolded. It hurt… not in the ass, he made sure of that… it hurt because I _knew_ he was just fucking with me.

He didn't care about me… he was just going slow and gentle to make sure I enjoyed it. He didn't love me, certainly not, and he definitely didn't care about me either. You can only pretend so much.

Cartman fucked me nearly everyday for an entire month. I was really becoming used to it when Stan found out.

I had become so used to having sex in fact that we even started talking about other things like school and which teachers we hated and stuff while he was doing me. It was messed, but really, I honestly felt we were beginning to become friends. He didn't insult me anymore, or when he did, the insults were half hearted. And when I stopped moping about being in a relationship with Cartman I realized it wasn't all that bad. I didn't dread going to his house anymore… I stopped needing the blind fold. After about three weeks, I started hesitantly touching him back when he asked me too, which earned me praise and lots of "Good Kyle"s.

I even kinda found it exciting when he dragged me down to the gym room to have sex. I started wrestling with him on the gym mats, vying for supremacy… a fight he'd always win. I could tell he enjoyed it though, by the way his eyes lit up and he laughed. Hell, I enjoyed it too.

The only thing that bothered me was the fact that he to kept on asking me if I liked sex, usually after he had made me come. I wouldn't answer, but I knew I did enjoy it. The evidence was streaked all over my midsection.

The day Stan found out, both Cartman and I heard his footsteps going back up the stairs. I flipped out then, surprising the hell out of Cartman who wasn't expecting it. I wrestled him off of me, jerking my shirt back down as I lunged to the door.

There was no one there. Stan had already made it up the stairs and out of sight.

I heard Cartman laughing from behind me. His arms snaked around my waist and I struggled against him again. "Let me GO! Damn it Cartman someone SAW."

He didn't listen to me, merely shoved the door closed again.

"They're gone now," He said. He gave me a curious look, his analyzing gaze taking me in. Then he leaned down and kissed me on the mouth.

The sickening thought that someone had seen us together had completely killed whatever mood Cartman may have possibly inspired in me before the footsteps. I turned my head to the side. "Don't," I hissed. When he began kissing my now exposed neck, I pushed against him harder, fighting to get free. "Eric stop it!_ Please._" My voice cracked.

He pulled away and merely held me by my upper arms as he looked me up and down. Finally, for the first time since the entire fiasco started, he actually did something I asked him to do. He let me go. Actually pushed me away a little bit so that I stumbled backwards.

"Go." He ordered.

I stared at him. There was a catch. There had to be. He never stopped before when I said 'don't' or 'stop' or 'I'm going to kill you', or anything else…

Instead he went over and picked up my bookbag and his from where we had put them into the corner. He tossed mine at me.

I stood there with my jaw hanging open slightly. "… what?" I managed, stunned.

He gave me that 'you're retarded' look. "Go. Home. Kyle." He said very deliberately.

He didn't have to ask me again. I turned around and ran out of the room.

The walk home was particularly horrible, especially since it gave me a good hour to think about it. Why had he let me go? I turned over my last sentence to him in my head. It wasn't what I said… I've called him Eric before on very rare occasions. It wasn't the fact that I begged… I've done that too. Cried, begged, the works.

He wasn't protecting his own ass was he? Even if someone saw… it wasn't like he was going to have to worry about kids ridiculing him at school tomorrow. I had to worry about that. I was the gay one after all.

There was no reason why he would let me go. It made no sense… well, unless my theory that we were becoming sorta friends was correct. Perhaps that was it. He actually… _cared_ about me a tiny bit…

Ugh. No he didn't. He was Cartman. If he could have gotten away with it, he would have happily killed me back in fourth grade. And that was the absolute honest truth.

I was mentally exhausted by the time I got home. I had decided by the time my long walk was done that the actual reason he let me go was to make me suffer by having to think about it so much, the bastard.

I found out VERY fast who had seen, the moment I got into my room.

At first I was completely devastated. Stan couldn't know, he couldn't…

Then I had to think about survival on top of feeling like my entire world was crumbling around me.

I thought he was going to kill me. I have NEVER seen him look at me like that before. He's never hit me like that, or called me what he called me before… I was so shocked I didn't even block his attack. Within seconds he had me on the bed, wailing on me with his fists. When I tried to turn my head to the side, he grabbed my jaw and yelled in my face.

_Stan… _

Oh god, my heart was going to break. Was breaking. I knew he wasn't gay, he didn't have to tell me. He didn't have to hit me like that either…

Amazingly he stopped. I could feel more than see him sitting at the edge of my bed. I struggled to get a grip.

I could tell he had calmed down by the tremble in his voice when he called out my name. I turned my head and looked at him.

He looked absolutely lost. He had his arms wrapped around his knees and looked like someone had just told him his grandmother died.

It was strange, but I was glad he was traumatized by the fact that he just beat the shit out of me. It meant that Stan didn't hate me completely, despite knowing about Cartman.

I broke down after that. Told him how I felt about the entire thing. That I enjoyed it, despite being coerced into sex. And he was amazingly understanding, he held me as I cried, like usual. He basically said that blamed Cartman, which made me feel even better.

My mom broke that up fairly quickly by coming into my room and babying me. I couldn't stand it. She sent Stan away, and after he was gone, I did something I was sorta proud of. I told her to fuck off and leave me alone. When she screamed at me for being disrespectful I called her a bitch and left the house. I was going to be grounded for a month when I came home, but I didn't care.

I went straight to Stan's house. I know he probably wanted to be left alone now, but I couldn't help it. I needed my best friend right then. Badly.

He answered the door when I knocked.

"Hey dude." I said weakly. "I really can't deal with my mom right now."

"Uh huh." He replied. He stepped aside and motioned me to come in.

We were making our way up the stairs to his room when Mrs. Marsh came out from the kitchen, cordless phone in hand. "Stanley," She said. "Sheila's on the phone. She said to send Kyle back home _right_ now." She frowned disapprovingly at me. "You're grounded mister."

Stan looked at me. I looked back at him, probably a bit desperately.

Stan walked back down the stairs and motioned for his mom to give him the phone.

Mrs. Marsh shook her head. "I really don't think that's a good idea Stan." She said.

Stan gave her an even look. "Give me the phone mom." He replied.

"Well, all right, I gue-" Stan took the phone from his mom and clicked it off. "Stanley!" Mrs. Marsh exclaimed.

Stan shook his head and put the phone down. He took his mom by the arm and led her into the next room. There I heard him talking to his mom in a quiet voice, but I couldn't make out the words. Occasionally Stan's mom interrupted with either annoyed or sympathetic tones. I wondered what story he was making up for me. Or if he was telling her the truth. Somehow Mrs. Marsh knowing about me wasn't nearly as terrifying as my own parents…

I sat down on the steps and awaited the verdict.

Mrs. Marsh and Stan came back into the room after a couple minutes. Mrs. Marsh eyed me appraisingly, then let out an exasperated sigh as she picked up the phone again. "All right Kyle, you can stay the night… but you'd better appreciate this young man!"

Stan walked up the stairs and grasped my arm. "Lets go." He said quietly. We made it the rest of the way to his room to the sound of his mom negotiating with my mom over the phone.

Apparently Stan's mom won, because no one came up the stairs to get me later.

We hung out for the rest of the night. Stan played an online computer game, I read a book on his bed. We didn't talk, we didn't need to. Just being around Stan was enough to help me relax.

I ended up dozing off on his bed… he woke me up around 10 pm and tossed a pair of his pajamas at me. I mumbled something about how I should go get the sleeping bag, but he shook his head. "It's okay." He said. "I'm taking a shower." He added. "Do you need anything?"

I shook my head no.

He came back into the room with his pajamas on when I was just in the middle of sluggishly changing. I would have been embarrassed, but he's seen me dress and undress often enough.

He stopped me before I could pull the pajama top over my head and knelt down beside me. He silently grasped my jaw and moved my head from one side to the other, inspecting my face and my neck. It took me a couple seconds to realize he was looking at the bruises he had inflicted by punching me earlier.

"I'm sorry," He said finally, letting me go.

I smiled at him. "It's not like I've never been beat up before Stanley." I said in a teasing voice.

He gave me a forlorn look. "I've never beat you up before." He pointed out. He thought about it for a second. "At least I don't THINK I've ever beaten you up before…"

My smile grew. "There's a first for everyone." I said, patting him on the arm.

He gave me a sheepish smile back and grabbed a pillow. "Shut up dude." He said, thumping me over the head.

I grabbed the other pillow and thumped him back in the face. We had a very short pillow fight before he sighed and laid back on his side of the bed. I laid down beside him. We both looked up at the ceiling.

"Are you going to be okay?" He asked after a significant pause.

I felt tears well up at that. Damn it, he only asked a question! I forced the tears back. I had cried far too much lately. I decided that Kyle's new goal in life would be to stop crying so damn much. I was going to start calling my**self** a pussy if I kept this up.

"Yes." I replied finally in response to his question. "Yes I think I will be."

He reached down and picked up my pajama top. He tossed it at me. I put it on while he pulled up the quilt and crawled beneath it. He patted the bed beside him, indicating I should crawl under the covers with him.

I hesitated.

He rolled his eyes. "I don't care if you're gay dude," He said. "Despite what I said earlier." He added, looking a bit chagrined.

I blushed and he let out an exasperated sigh. "Just get in here, okay?" Stan said grumpily, curling up under the blanket.

I carefully slid in under the blanket, amazed that for the first time in, what? 3 years? I was sharing Stan's bed with him. Wow, he must really feel badly if he was willing to let his gay friend share a bed with him… I shut my eyes briefly, remembering exactly why I had decided that sharing a bed with Stan was a bad thing back years ago. 'Must not think dirty thoughts, must not think dirty thoughts… come on Kyle, you can do this…'

"So… dude?" He asked sleepily, shifting in the bed beside me. "What are we going to do about him?"

I opened my eyes and looked at him. "Cartman?" I asked.

He looked very serious now. "Yes." He replied.

I shook my head slowly. "I don't know." I said. I turned on my side so that I was facing away from him again. "I just… I don't want to talk about it right now." That was the honest truth. I had thought about Cartman way too much in the last couple months.

He gave me a couple supportive pats on the shoulder. "No prob." He said. He shifted, turning off the lamp. We were plunged into darkness, except for the light that was coming in from the street. I shut my eyes, intent on trying to fall asleep.

"Kyle?" Stan asked into the darkness.

"Yeah?" I replied, reopening my eyes.

"I'm sorry for being such a bad friend," He said remorsefully.

I turned my head back slightly. "It's okay Stan. Forget about it, alright?"

He was silent for a long moment. Then he surprised me. He sidled up behind me and gave me a hug. It lasted for a very short second before he pulled away and scooted back over to his side of the bed.

"Okay, that's _it_ god damn it," I said. I turned back over and flopped down on his side of the bed, wrapped my arms around his upper chest and laid my head against his side.

"Now you can beat me up," I grumbled after enough time had passed.

He chuckled. "… Only if you do anything funny." He mumbled. He patted me on the shoulder again but didn't push me away. Instead he relaxed, his arm resting somewhere along my back and the blanket tucked under his arm pit. "Mmm… Good night Kyle." He said with a yawn.

After a second or so, I shifted my head ever so slightly so that I could see his face. His eyes were closed, his mouth slightly slack. He looked peaceful.

I looked away again.

Wow.

WOW.

Right then I felt like the luckiest gay guy in the world. I laid there in the dark and listened until I heard his breathing even out, then let myself drift off as well.


	4. Feelings

I listened to the "La Resistance" Medley from the South Park movie about 100 times when writing this and parts of the chapter that is to come.

I went back and edited bits and pieces of the previous 3 chapters and reuploaded them as well. Also, just FYI, I write without a beta reader. This means that even though I read these chapters over about 3 times before I post them, they still lack a fine polish of something that gets screened through a shitload of betas. Lucky for you I have a compulsion to re-edit my stuff to death. :P (And it's still not perfect after all that, but whatever, it's not like I'm getting paid for this or anything.)

For the shocked amoung you -- yes, Kyle is gay in my fic here (and a little bit on the show as well.) Cartman, however, is an odd one. I haven't decided if he's bi, gay or just an opportunist. Eh, opportunist.

---------  
Chapter 4  
**Feelings**

_Cartman's point of view_

-

If I had known that the night we were discovered would be the last time for a long time I could manipulate Kyle into having sex with me, I would have fucked him anyway.

It's too bad he looked at me that way. It's really too bad I had a moment of weakness.

I guess I kinda deluded myself. I had thought, slowly over time, that I had won. That Kyle was mine.

I mean I knew it was all a game. A long elaborate game I had made myself. So what if I had a month to fuck Kyle, mostly in the head. So what if I was nice to him and he was slowly and hesitantly nice back.

-

It was one of my greatest accomplishments ever, blackmailing Kyle like that. I thought it would take a long time to get him to a state were he was completely resistantless… but it happened a lot faster than I thought it would.

First step in my plan was to find out all I could about Kyle. That meant in the small time between jacking him off the first time and blackmailing him into letting me do it again and again, I had to find out his dirty dark secrets.

That meant sucking up to the people who attacked him the first time. I'd figured if anyone knew something about Kyle's secrets it was them. Lucky for me I am such a smooth talker or Cory would have laughed me out of his house. As it was I was surprised Trent hadn't gotten to him yet to tell him I'd been the one who knocked him out the day before.

I wasn't going to tempt fate by telling Cory about Trent. Instead, in true Eric Cartman style, I sweet talked the guy into pouring me a drink and telling me all he knew.

By the end of the day I knew a lot. It was awesome. First thing I found out was that yes… yes Kyle was gay. I was wrong about the guy. Haha, who would have guessed Kyle sniffed dude ass? I wondered briefly if it was because I farted on him so much in elementary and had a good laugh about that.

I had chosen my informant well. Cory had a story to tell. He had been walking along the street smoking a joint in plain site when he saw a cop car coming. So he ducked behind a bunch of trees and bushes as the cop car went by. When he was just about to reemerge from hiding another car pulled up right in front of the trees he had been hiding behind.

Turned out he was right in front of a kid named Riley's house.

That's where the story got interesting. From where he was hiding Cory saw everything. This apparently included seeing another boy suck Kyle off in the front seat of a car.

Not a big deal, since he couldn't see much of anything from where he was looking. But Cory made sure I knew just how much of a slut he though Kyle was… Riley was almost 18. Kyle was 13. Big age difference.

Hell, right then I had enough blackmail material to do nearly anything to Kyle and exact sweet revenge, but Cory continued. He went on to tell me all about what they did to Kyle a couple months ago. Apparently Kyle put up quite a fight before they were able to get him under control… okay, Cory didn't SAY that, but he implied it when he talked of all the bruises he got from the entire thing. Good for Kyle.

Then, after explaining how they got him under control, Cory went into elaborate detail about how they fucked them… using the dirtiest words he could think of. The guy contradicted himself with most of his bragging statements… apparently Kyle was the biggest slut ever, but he was also one of the most virginal fucks he had ever had. He also said that I should have joined them that day, I would have really enjoyed myself.

I'm sure I would have, except that the whole entire group fuck thing really doesn't appeal to me.

I made sure I schooled my expression of mild distaste and thanked him for his time.

-

I made up my plan very carefully. I prepared myself by cleaning my room completely. I hid everything I had that was sharp, just in case he decided to fight suddenly. I bathed, combed my hair neatly. I raided my mom's drawers… I stole a blind fold, warming gel, ky jelly, surgical gloves and rope. I considered taking one of her many dildos as well, than decided I would rather use my own dick if it came to that.

Now to get Kyle to agree.

I took several risks in convincing him to come with me out of his own free will. At any given time he could have resisted harder and called my bluff on telling his parents. I had hoped… and was right… that Kyle did NOT want his parents to know about his sexuality. Since I had never heard him even breath a word about preferring men, I figured he very much wanted such things to be a secret. Too bad the whole fucking school knew, huh?

-

I got him to my house and proceeded to go all the way with him. I had to go all the way on the first night I had him in my house… otherwise there was little chance I'd get him to agree to a second round.

It took me nearly an hour to get him to come. He was completely unaroused (and unimpressed) when I started. I kept on whispering at him to imagine I was someone else and to enjoy.

After he came he asked in that annoying, superior 'I'm better than you' voice of his if he could take the blind fold off.

I told him 'no', spread ky jelly on my fingers and stuck them up his ass. Slowly of course. He had just recovered from stitches down there recently… no need to reopen old wounds…

I half assumed that this would be the part where Kyle finally broke, and I was right. Sure enough he launched into a semi-panic attack, his muscles violently clamping down against my fingers. His breathing became unsteady and erratic. He didn't say anything, but he did start to make these little whimpering noises and wiggled to try to dislodge my fingers. When he actually started to physically lash out, I had to pin him down and reassure him yet again that I wasn't going to hurt him. I suppose if God gave me a little bit more empathy I would have felt badly, maybe even enough to stop what I was doing and let him go. Not so… I still intended to fuck him.

Calming him down and gently spreading him open took another hour of patience. It took a while before he stopped breathing funny because he was panicked and started breathing funny for other reasons, namely that I had found something deep inside him that felt really good. (Mom had told me about that spot… thank you Mom. Yes that sounds fucked up… I TOLD her to shut up and I didn't want to hear…. )

Anyway. After all that work he had turned into a sweaty aroused panting mess of a boy and was basically fucking my fingers without me having to do anything but hold them there. I decided it was time to move on.

I knew I could do whatever the hell I wanted to him when I turned him over and nudged him into a crouching position. I could have broken my resolve to be all nice and pretty about this. But that would undo about three days of work and planning and the thought irritated me more than the enjoyment of fucking Kyle would bring. I did like how his arms trembled with anger and his clenched fists burrowed in the blanket, but I didn't _say_ how much I liked it.

I did make sure he enjoyed it. And I accompanied my actions with praise. Though I'm sure right then all he could think about was how much he was going to kill me, but he'd like it soon enough.

When I was done I made sure to inspect him to make sure all was well. He was red down below, but no rips or tears as far as I could tell. I was the ass master! I celebrated silently and grinned down at him, even though he couldn't see my gloating expression.

Kyle was still blindfolded. As I watched, he got his breathing under control. His head cocked to the side questioningly. What was I going to do now?

"Did it hurt?" I asked him, sliding a hand up his thigh.

He turned his head to the side in a very quick 'no'. "I hate you," He added with venom.

I chucked softly. He really felt it necessary to tell me that over and over. "I know Kyle, I know." I slid my hand past his ass and up the gentle curve of the small of his back. I patted his back gently. "Did you enjoy it?" I asked.

His body went rigid and tense. He didn't answer.

That was all the answer I needed.

-

I even put his clothes back on him after I was done. I then put my clothes back on before taking off his blind fold. He blinked in the sudden light, then focused on me.

Confusion twined with anger in his eyes.

I leaned over and kissed him on the cheek. Or I would have, if he hadn't moved his head aside.

I sighed, pretending to be hurt, and leaned back. "Go home Kyle." I said.

"Is that it?" He asked bitterly.

I smiled at him. "Oh no," I replied. "I'm probably going to need help on my assignment again tomorrow Kyle…"

"AHHHHH_HHHHHHH!!!_"

I started and barely had time to block before I had a very angry Kyle pummeling me.

He waited until _after_ I was done with him to attack me. I suppose since the last time he attacked me he nearly lost his balls, it had taken him a couple hours to get the nerve up to attack me again, but STILL…

There is a process to fighting Kyle. It's one I've perfected over the years of getting into fights with him. He USED to win these all the time. But I started winning them… about grade 6 or so. When I got taller to go with the bigger and he remained the short small Jew boy.

But size isn't the only factor in a fight. It takes more than size to stop Kyle.

My technique for winning a fight against Kyle is three fold. I'll explain it to you. First is to wear down his resistance mentally.

In this case, it was to remind him of the people I can tell and try to blackmail him into not attacking me.

Check.

Second was to implement those karate lessons I continued to take when everyone else decided they were too old or too busy to continue. Hell, I even have a brown belt. Not quite a black belt, but it's better than a lot of kids in town. And the only reason why I never got the stupid black belt is because I "lack discipline". Whatever.

Check. I got him into a choke hold within a couple sharp right hooks from him. Granted my ears were ringing, but he couldn't do anything more to me from the angle I had him in.

Third is to fight dirty. This time I didn't need to kick him in the nuts, he was already slowing down thanks to the hold I had him in. He had been stupid in his rage. Now his hands clawed at my much larger arm that was cutting off his oxygen supply.

"Really Kyle," I said in a bored voice. "Is it seriously necessary to keep this up? Aren't you sick of fighting yet?"

The grunt and renewed struggle was the answer I got from him. He almost broke my hold on him before I let him go deliberately.

He lost his balance and fell to the carpet. He laid there coughing and choking.

By the way he was gasping for air I actually thought I may have hurt him. I frowned and knelt beside him, feeling his throat. No, no injuries.

He glared at me, then slapped my hand away. Silently he got to his feet and brushed himself off angrily. He left my room, and presumably my house without another word.

-

I don't know when my stupid feeling started to change. At first it was just a game… a highly arousing game where I got laid and got to fuck with Kyle's head as well. But something… something happened after the third or fourth time I forced him to have sex with me.

Maybe it was because we started talking. We'd talk about casual stuff, instead of "wrong angle fatass," and "shut **up** you pussy…" as I readjusted. I suppose I let my guard down… instead of concentrating so much on manipulation, I started to reply freely when he talked. It's not **my** fault he managed to throw me… I'd be right there in the middle of fucking him and suddenly I'd get "Hey Cartman? … What do you think of Mrs. Summers? Isn't she such a bitch?" and of course I'm going to be like "Yeah, unf, I hate the stupid whore, unf, what the fuck was with that last assignment anyway? Unf."

And then there was the responding thing… what the hell was I supposed to do with that? I mean nearly every time I dragged Kyle off to have sex somewhere I would torment him by asking him nicely to touch me… which usually lead to him glaring angrily at me or at the wall while I had a good laugh on the inside.

Then one day while jerking him off, I forgot to ask him to touch me back. I wasn't really enjoying this part anyway, it was just a step towards getting him ready, so my cock really wasn't the center of my attention. Next thing I know I feel a hand timidly feel around my crotch. THAT startled me.

What. The. Fuck? So of course I ran with it. Hoped to hell he wouldn't try to rip my balls off or anything, even though Kyle doesn't usually fight dirty. He didn't… and he was actually quite good at giving hand jobs. I praised him and all that, still slightly stunned and doing a pretty good job of hiding it. He was actually touching me out of his own free will, would wonders never cease.

The delicate blush on his cheeks and half lidded gaze took my breath away. Fuck… he was pretty when he was aroused….

-

So you see, it wasn't my fault I started feeling different about the entire thing. I was supposed to have to fight Kyle tooth and nail the entire time, not have a semi-willing sex partner.

In fact I had almost forgotten I was the one forcing him to do this when we were discovered. When I kissed him then and he fought me for the first time in a couple weeks… that was when I got the rude reminder -- Oh yeah, Kyle doesn't actually like having sex with me. Oh duh, Cartman, you dumb ass.

Even dumber was the fact that I let him go. I should have fucked him raw.

Instead he begged me to stop and I had a moment of weakness when I saw the desperation etched across his face. So I let him go and he was off like a shot, leaving me alone and feeling somewhat empty inside.

God damn it.

-

The next day I got to find out exactly how much my carefully laid plans had been permanently ruined.

I expected Kyle to come sit beside me during lunch, like usual, when instead he went and sat beside Stan. He took Kenny's regular spot… the blond haired boy must have been skipping school again because he was no where to be seen that lunch hour.

My mouth hung open slightly at the fact that Kyle didn't come and sit beside me. I snapped my jaw closed the moment I saw the look Stan was giving me. I glared back at him out of reflex. I was a bit uncertain as to why I was being glared at… then I figured it probably had something to do with Kyle.

I turned my gaze to the red haired boy and took him in. He was picking at his food with his head down, but that didn't stop me from noticing the shadow of a fresh bruise on his cheek. My eyes narrowed at that. Huh. That was interesting. Kyle wasn't sitting beside me, and someone had taken the liberty to knock him around a bit since yesterday.

I looked back at Stan. Dude was STILL glaring at me.

My eyes widened. I got it, though it was a little hard for me to believe. Kyle must have told Stan. It would explain why he felt it necessary to go sit beside Stan, and it would also explain why Stan hadn't stopped glaring at me since Kyle had walked into the room. But did that mean that Stan was the cause of Kyle's fresh display of bruises? Did he hit him because he told him I was having sex with him? Fuck. Stan was supposed to be his best friend, there was no way he would beat him up because of this shit, would he?

For some reason the thought that Stan may have hit Kyle because of his involvement with me really upset me. I swallowed back illogical anger and forced a smile at Stan.

"Kyle," I asked sweetly. "Aren't you going to come sit beside me?" I patted the seat beside me cutely. Though I didn't break eye contact with Mr. Aggressive, I could see Kyle raise his head out of the corner of my eye.

"Kyle isn't going anywhere near you again." Stan said very slowly and deliberately.

My smile froze, than disappeared completely. "Oh really?" I replied, unable to keep the annoyance out of my voice.

Kyle spoke up, and sounded even more irritated than I did. "Stan, leave it alone." He stabbed at something on his plate, then looked up at me. "No Cartman, I'm sitting over here today." He answered my question.

Great stuff. Today just kept on getting better and better. Stan knew… and now Kyle had his free will back. My little bout of fun and games were over.

Well, at least I could have fun with this a bit… it was time to bring out the acting skills. The corner of my lips twisted up into a smile. "Kyle." I chided. "You're breaking up with me for STAN?"

Kyle looked up again, a mildly surprised look on his face. That surprise was quickly replaced with exasperation. "Cartman, we were never going out in the first place…"

That confirmed my hypothesis that Stan knew… Kyle would _never_ say that in front of Stan if he didn't know. As for a response… I pretended to be horribly, terribly stunned and clenched my hands over my heart. "Kyle! I'm hurt!"

"… except in your delusional fucked up mind."

A ha. Funny. I gave him an 'I don't think you're very amusing' look. Kyle held my gaze for a couple seconds, returning my look with an 'I don't care' one, then dropped his eyes and returned to his lunch.

I went back to eating my sandwich as well… for a couple seconds at least. It was then that I started making small little sexual moans and whimpers. They were very faint… but both of the boys could head them. I caught a faint reddening of Kyle's cheeks, and Stan, who had briefly returned to his lunch, looked up and glared at me again.

"Shut the fuck UP Cartman." Stan said in a low voice.

I continued making the noises, they just got progressively louder. I was only looking at Kyle now, who was studiously NOT looking back at me with a faint flush to his cheeks.

A crash and Stan stood up abruptly. "Stop it Cartman, right now!" He shouted.

I stopped. I looked up at him and gave him a very even look. "Why?" I asked. Why indeed. Stan was practically oozing over protective aggression and I honestly wanted to know why. Was he jealous? Fuck, it would be priceless if STAN…

Stan's fists clenched. His teeth ground together. He opened his mouth to let out what I assume would be a long line of expletives, when Kyle cut in.

"Stan, sit down!" He tugged on his friend's sleeve. "And just drop it already Cartman!" He snapped, glaring at me. "I just want to fucking eat my lunch in peace, is that too much to ask? Jesus."  
Stan sat down abruptly.

"I just want to know why the fuck Stan's acting so retarded all of a sudden, that's all," I replied.

Kyle let out a very self suffering sigh and was about to say something when Stan beat him too it. "All right, you wanna know why?" Stan hissed at me, leaning across the table so that only the three of us could hear. "Because I saw what you did to Kyle, you fat fuck, and if you ever EVER lay a finger on one of my friends again, I swear to God I will kill you Cartman."

Got it. The last piece fell into place. Not only did Stan _know_, but Stan was also the lucky student that saw me with Kyle yesterday, which explained the overprotectiveness and the over aggression and the bruises on Kyle's face and everything. I tilted my head back and laughed. "Oh ho ho," I chucked. "Me?" I questioned. "You're worried about me laying a finger on Kyle?" I pointed. "I am not the person who put that bruise on his face Stan. I wonder who might be responsible for that? Hmmm? Let's see… uh, you maybe?"

"Shut UP!" Stan got off his chair and lunged for me. It was pretty impressive actually… he managed to get across the table to wrench me up by my collar in less than a second. Dishes and food all around crashed to the floor, muffling Kyle's shout to stop.

"'Ay!" I protested, looking at where the remains of my sandwich plopped down to the floor next to me. "I was eating that!" I didn't have a chance to gripe anymore because Stan managed to wrench me to the side. We fell to the floor and the fucking bastard landed on top of me and began trying to pummel me.

I blocked as well as threw a couple punches myself. It was over way too quickly however… within seconds a lunchroom teacher was over us and blowing her whistle.

"CARTMAN! MARSH!" She shouted. I wondered vaguely how she knew our names since I had never had a class with her ever as she grabbed Stan by the back of his shirt. I was quite impressed when she wrenched him off of me with one arm. Maybe she was a gym teacher. "To the office! Both of you! NOW!!" She turned Stan around and pushed him in the general direction of the door of the cafeteria as I got to my feet. She then turned back around and grabbed my arm.

"AY! Let me go bitch!" I protested as she pushed me off in the direction of the door as well. I winced slightly as she took offense to me calling her a bitch and blew her whistle extra loud in my ear. She also walked along right behind me, presumably to make sure I made it to the office without any detours.

The office ordeal was simple and painless. I spent exactly 5 minutes inside the office sitting on a chair while Stan got lectured, then I took his place and talked with the vice principal for 5 minutes. I could tell the man had had the job WAY to long… I've never seen a teacher look more apathetic while writing up an incident report.

So I left the office with yet another black mark on my file, only to find Stan standing about half way down the hall. He was scowling at me as he leaned against the wall, his arms crossed.

I raised an eyebrow at him. Lunch was over now, he should have gone to class. What the hell? Fighting in the halls was about as dumb as fighting in the lunch room, so it probably wasn't that…

It turned out that Stan only wished to relay a message. "Touch Kyle again and I'll kill you." He said simply.

"Ohh… I'm scared Stanley." I replied, deliberately provoking him.

He merely shrugged and walked away. I had been told apparently.

-

The not so wonderful thing about winter? When the buses get us home after school it's already getting dark. Which means trudging home in the twilight with ever lengthening shadows about you and unsure if your homicidal friends are following you or not.

The three of us got off at the same stop, which was odd because everyone has extra curricular things after school nowadays. I hadn't seen Stan take the same bus as us for about a month.

He probably caught the same bus home as Kyle and I to make sure I didn't go near him. Whatever. When we got off the bus I raised an eyebrow at the two of them where they stood a couple feet away, then shrugged. "See you later Kyle." I said in a very sickeningly sweet voice, waving over my shoulder at them.

About a half a block later I turned back to see Kyle arguing with Stan. He was probably convincing him that he didn't want to follow me and try to kick my ass. How nice of him.

I went home and found the switchblade I usually kept under my mattress. I stuffed it in my jacket pocket. Fuck me if I wasn't going to be prepared when I went to school tomorrow. I hadn't been friends with those douches for like 5 years to not know there was a possibility that I might get jumped at any given time.

Then, like nothing was wrong, I went and ate dinner.

-

About quarter past six there was a knock on the front door.

I expected it to be Stan on a mission to continue or carry out the threat he had uttered at lunch. I rolled my eyes and opened the door.

It was Kyle standing on my front step, with his hands stuffed in his pockets. That I didn't expect.

Didn't mean I couldn't work with it. I leaned against the door and smirked at him. "Kyle," I exclaimed. "What can I do you for?"

Kyle just looked at me with the same tired but enduring expression I had seen on his face several times during the last month or so. "Shut up Cartman." He said tiredly. He sighed and looked down, shuffling from foot to foot for a moment before looking back up at me. His jaw was set. 'Ohhh… here it comes…' I thought to myself. 'The super serious 'talk.'' I put on my pretend listening intently look.

"I'm not sleeping with you anymore." Kyle said deliberately. "I don't care…"

My mom cut him off inadvertently. "Eric?" Her voice carried from inside the house. "Who is that at the door?"

I tried to school an irritated look. "Mooom," I whined. "I'm BUSY here…"

Mom sucks at listening. She came right over and cooed happily when she saw who it was at the door. "Oh hello Kyle!" She said. "Are you staying for dinner tonight or are you just going to be visiting Eric?" She winked, which made Kyle blush and stare at her with what I could only assume was speechless embarrassment.

I rolled my eyes and grabbed my hat and gloves. "Let's go discuss this elsewhere," I said pointedly.

Kyle looked like he was about to object for a second, then just shrugged.

"Have a good time boys!" My mom called out after us cheerfully. Kyle blushed again at that and even managed a slight wave back at my mom. Isn't he nice?

-

The silence between us grew the farther down the block we got. I actually considered then decided against ribbing Kyle. I still kinda thought it was odd that he came over to talk to me after what happened today. Curiosity won over the need to torment. I shut up and waited for him to say something else so I could go back to pretending to listen to him.

He trudged beside me, his head down slightly, a thinking frown on his face. Finally when we turned down an alley that led towards his house he got the nerve up to speak. He stopped and turned and looked me in the eye.

"This is over Cartman." He said with a great amount of finality. "The only reason why I haven't been fighting you for the last couple weeks is because I…" He stopped, visibly struggling with himself for a moment. He heaved a sigh. "I'macoward." He finished in a rush.

Sw-eet. I smirked and raised an eyebrow. "So you finally admit you're a gigantic pussy?" I replied.

Irritation flashed across his face. "I did what you asked because I was afraid of what my parents would think." He snapped at me. "I'm not doing that anymore. Cartman… it's over." He made a cutting gesture with his hands.

While he talked I walked towards him. I expected him to back up a step for every one I took towards him, but instead he held his ground. As he finished talking I was literally chest to chest with him… well, chest to shoulders because he was still way shorter than me.

I was trying to posture him into retreating, but it wasn't working.

The angry look on his face faded back to just a tired one. He shook his head and turned back to the alley. He began to walk down the alley and away from me, his hands in his pockets and his head turned slightly down.

"That's it?" I called out after him.

He turned back around and walked backwards as he spoke. "That's it Cartman." He paused then took another couple more backwards steps as he continued. "Tell my parents, tell anyone you want, I don't care. It's over."

"But… didn't our relationship mean anything to you?" I was acting again and using the fake sweet voice. "Do you really think you can have the most mindblowing sex EVER, everyday for a month and just walk away from it, do you?" I grinned.

"I'm going to try my best to forget it fatass," He replied seriously. With that he turned his back to me again and kept on walking away.

I stood there and watched him go.

-

A really strange emotion came over me as his backside slowly grew smaller and smaller as he walked away. It bubbled up inside of me like rage… but it wasn't anger. It kinda felt like something inside of me was being torn in two. It was very odd, especially since I'm emotionally retarded.

Next thing I knew I was running after him, going as fast as I would be if I were sprinting on the football field. I reached him within seconds, grabbing his upper arm. He looked up at me, surprised, and that's all I saw before I leaned down and pressed my lips to his.

He struggled instantly, and I let him go just as fast. "What the FUCK, Cartman!" He swore at me as he stumbled backwards. "I told you this shit is OVER, you…" He stopped suddenly.

We stared at each other.

He drew the back of his glove across his mouth slowly. His brow was wrinkled to indicate he was thinking.

I was beginning to feel distinctly uncomfortable.

"What was that?" He asked finally. Pointedly.

I opened my mouth and closed it again in a very uncharacteristicly Cartman move. I was literally a loss for words, I think for one of the first times in my life. I didn't even know why the fuck I did that. My brain had decided to fucking QUIT. I hated my brain! I HATED IT!

Kyle's eyes narrowed. He darted forwards suddenly, and grabbed me by my arms forcefully. I backpeddled a couple of steps. "What the hell WAS that Cartman?!"

Kyle's aggression shocked me into responding. "Nothing you fucking Jewfag, get the fuck away from me!" I returned defensively.

He let out a short bark of laughter at my response. Then he leaned up and kissed me back. Hard.

… My brain shut down again briefly. It literally decided it couldn't deal with the information it was being sent and for a couple seconds all I could hear was an odd buzzing in my ears.

Then Kyle pulled away again. His eyes were narrowed and searching as he peered up into my face.

I blushed. Honest to God. I blushed. At the same time my brain started up again and I began to curse at myself mentally.

I shouldn't have ran after him and I CERTAINLY should not have kissed him. I could see now that I had given away too much by doing that. That he had read the expression on my face when I let him go. Fuck, he didn't need to know I was actually _attracted_ to him!

God DAMN IT. This ruined everything! Even more than it was already ruined, it gave him fucking blackmail material.

I glared at him as I took another step back from him. I had lost control of the situation and I NEEDED to get that control back. To make matters worse, Kyle took a step towards me as I backed off, his eyes still narrowed and the look on his face pensive. I stopped moving suddenly as I realized I was backing down. Shit. SHIT!

For all my cunning I could only think about how much I should just turn tail and go home. But that was stupid and I didn't want to do that for obvious reasons. Fuck me if I was going to let Kyle laugh at me for the rest of the fucking school year.

So… what then? The only other solution that came to mind was that I should beat the shit out of him instead. That I could do. I took a step towards him again, my fist raised. He stood his ground and reached out himself.

His hand connected with my cheek before my fist could connect with his. That hand laid there for a moment, open fisted, gloved thumb moving over my cheek.

My hand just hung there in the air, useless.

His analyzing gaze didn't falter. Finally he smiled, a swift, sudden and slightly sad smile.

"I hate you Eric Cartman," He said softly and solemnly. "You fucking bastard." He meant that, I could tell by his voice, but then he smiled that sad smile again and leaned forwards.

Fuck. Me.

The kiss was wonderful-- slow but heartfelt, and real. He moved against me, running his hands down my sides, then along my back. For the longest time I didn't touch him back except with my lips. I was still in shock. Kyle was kissing me… the fucking hot jewboy with his pouty lips and beautiful blue-green eyes that flashed so prettily when he was upset… who I had manipulated into having sex with me for an entire fucking month against his will, and here he was kissing me _willingly_… and wow… what?

What do I do? My brain fumbled through possibilities. Did I want to beat the shit out of him? Or kiss him back and touch him to encourage him to continue?

Touching won. The game was officially over now… and the final joke was on me.

Suddenly it didn't matter as much. This felt too good to just drop. I ran my hands down his arms, then looped them around his back to hold him loosely.

He was up against me, and moving with more confidence than I expected, catching me off guard for an instant. I caught on fast though, my hands grasping his upper arms as I backed him up against the deep red bricks of the alley wall. He moaned into my mouth, then let go to attack my neck, nipping at the flesh there. My hands carried down to his ass, picking him up and pulling him against me. That seemed to excite him even more and he thrust his hips against mine _hard_. I could feel him through his winter clothes. His mouth came back up and suddenly our tongues are warring for dominancy again…

Holy fucking God.

I'd been fucking Kyle for a month and this was a side of him I've never ever seen before. I thought Cory was at least exaggerating a little bit about the entire car/kinky sex in public thing. Apparently he wasn't, because here we were dry humping only a few feet away from a main street.

He pulled away again to let his head fall back against the bricks, his teeth clenched and face screwed up in pleasure. I lowered my head to lick and nip at his now available neck, allowing a gloved hand to fall and fondle him through the thick fabric of his pants. I smirked when his lips parted to gasp in pleasure. He was so fucking hot…

There was only one thing that could ruin this and it just happened to wander by right then. "Oh. MY. GOD."

Fuck.

I dropped Kyle like I had been burned. He half doubled up against the alley wall, gasping for breath with his cheeks flushed and lips still swollen and beautiful and red and…

"Stan!" Kyle managed out. His mouth opened and closed a couple of times, but it seemed like no other words wanted to come out. He probably couldn't think of one possible reason to give Stan as to why, exactly, he was making out with me right then.

That's okay, really, because Stan's death glare was focused entirely on me.

This really wasn't going to go very well for me, was it? I didn't need anyone to tell me that. I know when I'm fucked.

Stan was standing only a couple yards away at the entrance to the alley. The look on his face- he looked like the fucking terminator. Incidentally Kenny was standing beside Stan, they must have been on their way to Kyle's house to visit him or something.

Though Stan looked ready to kill, Kenny looked absolutely stunned. Even though he was a pervert. I didn't blame the poor guy. It's everyday that you walk around a corner and see two of your childhood friends feeling each other up…

Back to Stan, who was now starting to walk towards me with his hands balled into fists. I didn't exactly know what to do in this situation, but I did know that I had to think of something quickly.

Think of something quickly involved falling back on what I do best. Being an asshole. No I wasn't thinking properly. Getting out of that situation without fighting Stan and having Kyle hate me would have involved a lot of honest sincerity and all that bullshit. Well I don't do honest sincerity, especially since I had only just realized 3 minutes before that I actually had feeling for Kyle.

So I ruined it all instead.

"Oh look!" I said loudly with my sugary fake voice. "It's Stan and Kenny! Why hello-o! Look Kyle, now you can have sex with them too-o!"

Kyle's head snapped up and he glared at me. I smirked and grabbed him by the wrist, hauling him towards me. I learned down for a kiss, which he ducked and avoided. "CARTMAN!" He snapped. "Let me go!" He punched me in the arm, but the strike was awkward as he was punching with his non-dominant hand. He leaned back and swung again anyway, this time aiming for my face. I tightened my gripped on his wrist warningly and ground the bones together a bit for good measure.

The punch went wide and he went back to just struggling to be released.

"Let. Him. Go." Stan said very deliberately. His voice had a very scary sounding edge to it.

Kyle stopped struggling at that and turned to look at his best friend. "It's okay Stan," He began. "I'm fine."

This was very amusing. "Yes Stan," I continued in my sickenly sweet voice. "It's okay. He likes it." With that I reached around back with my free hand and slapped him on the ass.

Kyle let out an incoherent yell. "You fucking bastard!" He screamed. He hit me again which earned him another wrist grind, or at least an attempted one. He didn't stop this time though, just kept on hitting me and screaming. "Of course I don't! Stupid fucking fatass, I can't believe I ever willingly let you touch me, you disgusting fuck!" He wretched back on his arm, then swung at my face to get me to let him go. I ducked that one and he kicked me in the kneecap. Ow. I released my grip on him and he stumbled back into the brick wall, holding his wrist to his chest.

I'm sure Kyle would have continued his hurt ranting OR lunged at me again, if Kenny hadn't chosen that moment to become unshocked enough to speak. "DUDE!" he exclaimed, staring at us both now with disbelief painted all over his face. He turned to look at Kyle. "You've been fucking Cartman?!"

Kyle couldn't seem to put together a quick enough response. He only looked back at Kenny a bit helplessly. "I – I don't…" He stammered.

"Not by choice." Stan told Kenny, glancing at him briefly before going back to glaring at me.

I laughed. I was about to reply to that one when Kenny did it for me.

"That, right then, that wasn't by choice?" He asked incredulously, flailing a hand at both Kyle and I. "Dude. I wish I could get girls to respond like that!"

Kyle let out a little groan and slumped to the snow at the base of the wall. He sat with his hands covering his face in what was presumably embarrassment.

"You know how much of a manipulative fuck Cartman is," Stan snapped. Kenny looked skeptical, but that was okay because Stan turned his attention back to me. "I told you Cartman, if I ever saw you touch Kyle again I'd kill you and I _meant it_." He raised his fists and took another step towards me.

Kyle looked up from his hands. "Stan?" He questioned. When Stan didn't answer and continued to advance on me, he got irritated. "Stan, what the fuck? Dude! I don't need you to defend me." He got to his feet. "Stan!"

Stan ignored him. We started circling each other, me smirking, Stan looking like he was about to kill. We had a nice little rhythm going… that is until Kyle wrenched Stan back by the shoulder. "Both of you stop it," He snapped. He turned his attention to his seething friend. "Stan. Come on. This is STUPID…"

Stan shrugged off his hand and turned around to glare at his best friend. "No Kyle." He said through gritted teeth. "I'm not going to let him fuck with you anymore."

"I told you already Stan," Kyle replied earnestly. He lowered his voice considerably so that only Stan could hear. Or only Stan would be able to hear if, you know, I wasn't three feet away. "Ienjoyedit." The redhead confessed, blushing. "As you can obviously see…." He mumbled something else, but he was looking directly at the ground right then and I didn't catch it.

"And you're obviously more fucked up than I thought you were," Stan hissed, grabbing him by the shoulders and shaking him. He continued in a low angry voice which again, was meant for only Kyle. "But I'm not going to let some sicko freak I used to call a friend use you like you're his personal fuck toy, got it?"  
Kyle was beginning to look desperate as he squirmed out of his friend's grip. "Stan please don't do this." He replied. "I already told him to stop… he's not going to anymore…" I raised an eyebrow and glanced at Kenny. Kenny was on the other side of them, watching and listening with slightly flushed cheeks and wide disbelieving eyes.

If it were possible, Stan looked even angrier at that. "What the fuck was that just NOW?" He demanded to know, making a hand gesture at the alley wall.

Kyle shook his head. "It's long and complicated Stan," When Stan made an angry noise, Kyle spoke nervously and quickly, grabbing onto Stan's arms with both his hands. "But I can explain, really…"

I pretended to yawn. "Well, It's been nice talking to you all, really… but I should be heading back now. See, you know, you all tomorrow and stuff." With that I turned my back on the two of them and began to make my way towards home. I half expected to make it too while Kyle spent the next half an hour explaining why, exactly, he had kissed me. I wanted to hear why as well, but not nearly enough to stay and get my assed kicked for it. Stan's scary when he's mad…

No such luck. There were a couple more quick words exchanged between the two boys and next thing I hear are loud footsteps running towards me. Next moment after that I had an angry Stan on me. I was against the bricks with him hitting me in the face. I kicked him off of me, but I was only free for about two good punches before he had me back into the bricks and trying to block his blows as best I could.

The guy was going on pure rage. If I wasn't so certain that Stan was as straight as an arrow, I'd even wager he was jealous or something. This was super jealous boyfriend behavior after all. Or maybe Stan just had serious rage issues he forgot to tell us about. Either way, I was becoming more and more certain by the second he really did intend to kill me.

I did the only think I could think of. I grabbed my switchblade from my jacket pocket and flicked it open.

I had planned to use it to make Stan back off so I could get a time out or whatever. Instead he lunged for me again and it hit him.

It happened all so fast that I don't even remember making an arm motion. I only felt the resistance against the weapon in my hand as it met cloth, then flesh and kept on going. At the same time I was aware of Kyle screaming Stan's name very loudly.

As for Stan, he went down, clenching his side as he went. I could only stare at him, utterly shocked. I hadn't meant to stab him! I only wanted to defend myself. Jesus Christ. I watched, a bit horrified, as he reached down and touched his side. He brought that hand back to his face. I saw it about the same time he did.

Blood. He looked up at me. "You stabbed me." He said point blank, still shocked. "You fucking bastard, you stabbed me!" Then he doubled over on himself, grunting in pain.

My world was beginning to funnel funnily, the way it does when I start to panic. I was in serious shit.

I took a step backwards as I watched Kenny and Kyle rush to their downed friend's side.

"I'll be okay Kenny," Stan ground out from between clenched teeth. His head jerked up and he glared at me.

… Oh no.

"S… Stan?" I questioned. There was one fucking scary look on his face now. I've NEVER had anyone look at me that way before. And Kyle has given me some pretty murderous looks in his day.

"I'm going to kill you, Cartman." Stan said in a very low, very deliberate voice. He made a move to get up.

I had no doubt in my mind that he intended to do exactly that.

Stan struggled and finally stood, despite Kyle's protests that he should stay put and let him look at Stan's wound. He straightened with his shoulders back, despite the knife wound that must have been killing him, never taking his eyes off of me the entire time. He took a step towards me.

Oh shit.

This would be the part where I run for my life.

So I did.

-

Don't ask me how he managed to catch up to me with a fucking stab wound, but he did. I remember going down and loosing the switchblade in the snow before I managed to kick him off of me and scramble back to my feet. I punched him approximately where I thought I stabbed him to buy myself some time, then took off again.

I didn't stop until I was about two blocks away. I leaned up against a lamp post, breathing heavily. What the fuck was that anyway?

I needed to get home. Unfortunately home was about 4 blocks in the opposite direction, and getting there would mean going past where Stan Kyle and Kenny were. If I encountered them again I had no doubt that one of them would try to kill me, especially after stabbing Stan. Stan would try to kill me because he had gone insane and I lost my knife. Kyle… I closed my eyes at that. Shit. Kyle.

I had just seriously fucked myself over with him too. Kyle would want to hurt me right now, for two different reasons. First would be for the way I treated him in front of Stan and Kenny, and second because I had stabbed Stan. I had seen the way he glared at me, he wanted to hurt me just as much as Stan did, except he was doing the 'I love my best friend' thing by trying to keep Stan safe and out of the situation. Now that Stan was injured because of me, I had a feeling all bets were off. "Way to fucking go Eric," I muttered to myself under my breath. … _And way to go and ruin a beautiful thing only seconds after you get it... **genius**._

I shook my head abruptly. I needed to think about how I was going to get home, I decided, not reminisce bitterly about things lost. Especially when I heard the sound distant sound of footfalls coming in my direction. I needed to think of someway to defend myself and fast. Maybe hiding, I thought as I looked up and down the street. Or randomly going into a strangers' home and asking to call for a police man to drive me to my house… or…

Then I realized whose street I was on. Kenny's.

Kenny had something hidden in his yard. A little 'toy' we had found at Stark's pond back in grade 7. If I remembered correctly he still had it hidden under his porch… it was perfect.


	5. Breakdown

Amusing little note about Chapter 4 – the F-word was used no less than 60 times, I went back and counted. I'm such a bad influence on my readers. ;) Actually I'm a bad influence on myself, I work customer service at an electronics store and I've slipped and swore in front of customers a lot more since I started watching South Park again. Oops. --;

Special note to my Reviewers - Wow. I may not get a lot of reviews, but the ones that do review… knowing something I wrote absolutely made your day/night really makes me feel like a million bucks. Thank you, thank you, thank you, I'm glad you like my fic. (Also don't be afraid to give criticism as well, 'kay? ; )

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Chapter 5  
**Break-down**

_Kyle's point of view_

-

It was the perfect night leading into a perfect morning. I woke up next to a still sleeping Stan and was once again was elated over my luck to be sharing a bed with my best friend. I just lay there a minute or so, cuddling up against his warmth and enjoying it. Everything I felt – happiness, joy, contentment… quickly faded when I remembered that I had to go to school that day.

I sat up abruptly and swore softly to myself. That woke up Stan. He rubbed his eyes tiredly and blinked up at me. "K-kyle?" He questioned.

I looked down at him and sighed, running my hands through my impossibly tangled curls. "We have to go to school today." I said miserably.

Stan sat up too. "School?" He repeated. "So?" He continued, looking confused. His brain was obviously trying to turn on to process why this was a bad thing, but hadn't quite made it there yet.

I just looked at him and waited.

He got it. "Oh." He said. The look on his face darkened considerably. Then he groaned and flopped back down on the bed, curling up in a ball and pulling the blanket over his head. "What time is it?" He mumbled.

I didn't even think of the time. I'm a morning person, so I get up whenever my body feels like getting up, which was usually "6:30," I replied, reading off of his alarm clock.

Stan groaned louder. "Wake me up in an hour." He replied, his voice muffled by the blankets.

I sighed and laid back down beside him. I tried to go back to sleep, I really did, but just listening to him breathing so close to me was doing wonders to my lower body. I also had to mentally talk myself out of molesting my best friend. I bit the back of my hand for a bit to convince it not to wander. I tossed and turned, but even scooting over to the very very edge of the bed from Stan didn't stop my dirty thoughts and urges.

Damn it anyway.

At about 6:40 I decided that there was no way I was getting any more sleep and gave up in frustration. I got up and quietly puttered around his room, finding my clothes and redressing myself. I gave him a quiet goodbye (to which he grunted without opening his eyes) and left his house.

I had my mom to deal with when I got home. Strangely enough she didn't even reprimand me when I came through the door at 7 AM. She just kept on cooking breakfast for dad and Ike like there was nothing wrong and it was normal for her son to come wandering back into the house at 7 AM the night after calling her a bitch. When I greeted her cautiously she told me my clothes were folded and on my bed and if I could please take the garbage out before I left for school. That was the end of the conversation.

Definitely odd. I didn't question it though… whatever Mrs. Marsh said to my mom last night must have worked.

I decided as I packed my lunch for school that if she was still mad, I was going to find out about it soon enough anyway. There wasn't any reason to stress out about it. Goodness knows I would have enough stress to worry about at school without thinking about my Mom.

-

Every thing was fine and good until lunch. We got on the bus together, and besides a couple killer glares at the back of Cartman's head, Stan ignored the fatass. I sat next to Stan on the bus, a seating arrangement which hadn't changed since Elementary. Cartman sat next to Kenny. When we got to the school Stan and I exchanged 'later's and went our separate ways to class. I didn't have math that morning, so I didn't have to worry about talking or being around Cartman at all.

Stan was nice to me in gym class and picked me first for his team as usual. When we talked it was mono-syllabic and civil. It was so damned ordinary I should have guessed that something bad would happen.

And it did… at lunch to be exact.

Lunch was an absolute disaster. Stan can be a real prick without meaning to be one sometimes. I know he was trying to defend me, but getting himself kicked to the principal's office for doing so wasn't the way I wanted him to defend me. Hell, right now, I wanted him to be the calm silent supportive friend. Like he had been the night before. Like I _thought_ he was being based on how he acted that morning on the bus and in gym.

So I was mad at him. He didn't notice because he was too busy sitting in the principal's office getting a write up for fighting in the Cafeteria.

After school he came home on the same bus as me, skipping out on Volleyball practice to do so. I noticed that and sat beside him in uncomfortable silence entire way home. I knew why he was on the same bus as me, he was protecting me from Cartman. Yay.

We all got off the bus together… Cartman first, Stan and I after him. I sighed when Cartman threw his traditional "I'm an asshole" type comment at me, which this time happened to be saying good-bye to me in his really sweet sounding fake voice. I was going to ignore it completely until I caught the dark look on Stan's face. He balled his hands into fists and took a step in Cartman's direction…

I grabbed his arm to hold him back. "Stan, quit it," I ordered.

He turned around and frowned at me. "Kyle…" He began.

I shook my head firmly. "Just stop it dude." I looked him straight in the eye. "Don't get me wrong Stan, I appreciate you being a friend and all about this… but you got to leave it alone now, okay?"

He shook his head once, quickly, in a sharp negative. "I don't get you." He said with venom, angrily swiping a wayward lock of black hair back under his cap. "If anyone should want Cartman dead it should be you, after what he's done to you…" He was really upset about this, I could tell.

I don't think Stan quite understood at that point that I was at least somewhat willing in what Cartman had done to me. But telling him that would be like talking to a brick wall, Stan was really convinced this was all Cartman's fault. "I don't need you to defend me Stan." I told him point blank. "I don't want you too."

He looked hurt. I winced inside. "He's fucking with you." He finally managed out.

"Stan…" I reached out and grasped his arm, still looking him in the eye. "Please. Let me handle this."

He looked away. "Kyle…" He began, scuffing his shoe against the snow covered sidewalk.

I shook my head, trying to get him to look at me again. He finally sighed and brought his gaze up. He glared at me, the expression on his face a bit like that of a reproved child.

I schooled a smile and forced myself to be serious. "Promise me, Stan." I said. "I don't want you getting hurt. I'll be okay. All right?"

He didn't like that, but he didn't look away again. He stared at me long and hard, frowning. "All _right_." He said finally, rolling his eyes. He turned to walk away, then suddenly turned back. For a split second I thought he was going to attack me or something. Then I realized he was coming in for a hug as he leaned forwards and wrapped his lanky arms around me. I smiled and hugged him back, rubbing his back with a gloved hand when he didn't let me go right away. "It's okay dude… seriously. I'll be fine."

Stan let me go slowly. "Kyle," He said, his eyes searching mine. "If you ever need anything, tell me okay?" He asked. His voice cracked a little bit and he cleared his throat quickly.

I nodded. "Of course."

-

That was the end of our conversation. We said our good byes and I went to my home and he his. I was quiet all throughout dinner, only speaking to politely answer mom's questions about how school was and how my life was going.

At the same time I was turning over the situation in my head. The only way I could really stop Stan from trying to protect me, would be to tell Cartman to back off. If Cartman didn't come anywhere near me, Stan wouldn't try to kill him. Simple… except for the entire telling Cartman to back off thing. I mean he MIGHT have decided to leave me alone now that Stan knew… but I know Cartman VERY well. What the manipulative asshole wanted was what the asshole got.

Stan wouldn't break his promise to me… would he?

I considered that. No… I didn't think Stan would break his promise to leave Cartman alone to my FACE… but I could just see the scenario in my head.

It would go something like this -- A week from now, Cartman convinces me to have sex with him and somehow Stan finds out. Then the next day someone finds Cartman's dead body somewhere. I confront Stan on it, and he insists that he didn't break his promise to me… Cartman has mysteriously ended up for some reason that has nothing to do with Stan. Except that two days later the police show up with evidence and drag Stan off…

I groaned and put my head in my hands.

"Are you alright, bubbe?"

I looked up and pasted an instant smile on my face. "Fine Mom," I replied scooping up a large spoonful of my dinner. "Just… uh, remembered my English assignment I have to work on later tonight, that's all." I lied.

She bought it amazingly enough and returned to her inane conversation with my dad.

Oh man. I stared down at my food again, replacing my spoon in my plate.

If I told Cartman we were through… could I live with my parents knowing the truth about me? I was going to have too. It was one of the last strings I had to cut if I wanted to break away from Cartman completely. I had no doubt in my mind that if I told Cartman we were through he'd take the opportunity to tell my parents in the singularly most embarrassing way ever. If I prepared myself NOW and got used to the fact that my parents would know eventually I could do this. I could talk to Cartman without loosing control.

-

…. At least I thought I could talk to Cartman without loosing control.

Things went so well at first. I felt in control when I walked purposefully to his house. I felt in control as I knocked on his door and asked to talk to him. I felt in control _and _proud of myself when I told Cartman it was over. I felt even more proud of myself that I was so good at ignoring him when he tried to threaten me, tease me, embarrass me… while I told him off.

Everything went without a hitch, and I was free and walking back towards my house when he ran up behind me, grabbed my arm, and kissed me.

I was so fucking pissed at him. I yelled and screamed at him… then stopped suddenly when I caught the look on his face.

I had seen fright on his face before, usually when he realized something he had done was going to lead to him getting his ass kicked or something. But this time… this time his look was different. Like he was lost and didn't know what to do.

"What was that?" I asked him. I was beginning to get an idea based on the look on his face that the kiss he just gave me wasn't because he was trying to fuck with me; but because of something a little deeper and a hell of a lot scarier.

His response… or lack of one shocked me. The fatass actually couldn't think of anything to say. His mouth opened and closed again and no sound came out.

'You're fucking _kidding_ me.' I thought to myself in disbelief. I flipped out at him. I darted forwards and grabbed him. If he wasn't so much bigger than me, I would have shook him. "What the hell WAS that Cartman?" I demanded to know, my voice a few decibels short of hysterical.

He nearly coiled in on himself defensively. "Nothing you fucking Jewfag, get the fuck away from me!" He snapped. But there was actual fear in his eyes. Fear. In CARTMAN'S eyes.

So I kissed him.

It was a bit of revenge I think, that first kiss. I kissed him HARD. Made him think about it.

He was blushing when I pulled away and still looked really confused and lost.

Amazing. That was the first time I realized that the fatass really did have feeling for me. I think it was also the first time the fatass himself realized he had feelings for me.

It made me happy in a way, it meant the entire thing hadn't been one enormous mind fuck. I also felt pity for him. I mean if his only way to show affection was to basically did what he did to me… that sucks. I knew Cartman was emotionally retarded, but this was pretty fucked up right here.

I saw several emotions flit across his face. Fear, pain, desire, anger… I felt even sorrier for him as I watched. The poor pathetic fucking bastard.

His face settled on anger. Which wasn't good for me. He took a step towards me and raised his arm like he was going to hit me, but I beat him too it. I touched his cheek, running a gloved thumb over the cold reddened flesh there. The anger on his face was replaced with confusion again.

He didn't know what to do with the fact that I was touching him without trying to hurt him. So he just stared at me. I wondered briefly if anyone had even ever taken the time to touch Cartman's cheek or treat him like a human being before. This entire thing… this didn't need to be a mind fuck power trip. He didn't need to threaten me to get me to fuck him. This didn't have to be a game, if he liked me he could have just SAID something…

I smiled at that, though it wasn't a joyful smile. Would I have believed him if he said anything? I probably wouldn't have… how many hints had he given me? I nearly laughed bitterly at that. Usually people don't manipulate other people into having sex with them a lot unless they find them somewhat attractive. Oh hell, and there was also the fact that he had basically stopped teasing me after that day three months ago. And the fact that he let me go yesterday. And how many other little signs had he given me? I had to face it… Cartman was head over heels for me and I didn't even know it. HE didn't even know it because he had a fucked up view on how affection was expressed, but at least he had the excuse of never being shown any kindness. I had no excuse. Not one.

I felt sorry for myself almost as much as I felt sorry for him right about then.

"I hate you Eric Cartman," I said softly. "You fucking bastard." I meant it, but I also meant what I did next.

I kissed him. With no pretext, no ulterior motive… I kissed him like Riley kissed me… like normal people kiss one another when they care about each other. It took him a couple moments but slowly and surely he kissed me back.

And I enjoyed it.

And then we started feeling each other up…

It was somewhere between light hugging and ass groping that the warning signals started to go off in my head that I needed to get out of that situation as quickly as possible.

I should have listened to them. I could out run Cartman… I could have escaped…

Instead I found myself backed up against a wall, being molested by the very person I needed to stay FAR FAR away from. And it felt so fucking good…

-

The absolute LAST person on the face of the planet I wanted to see me making out with Cartman right then was Stan. When I heard his voice through the haze of lust that clouded my senses, I thought that my heart would stop.

Cartman… reacted quickly. He was off of me and half way across the alley in less time than it takes to blink, which is pretty impressive considering his size.

"Stan!" I gasped out. I focused on him, appalled to see him standing there with Kenny only a little distance away. This was the exact sort of situation I had intended to keep Stan from. I tried to wrack my brain for some sort of excuse, but I could think of exactly nothing to say.

I had a sinking feeling that I had just fucked everything up. Either Cartman or Stan… one of them was going to die tonight… the way Stan was glaring at Cartman told me that it was probably going to be the latter.

I looked at Kenny to see if he'd help keep Stan from killing Cartman…

… Kenny looked absolutely shell-shocked. Oh. He didn't know about me and Cartman yet then.

I didn't think much things of a sexual nature could shock Kenny but I was wrong…

This… this was just great. I thought I was going to die of embarrassment.

Cartman's pretend 'I'm fucking with you' voice called my attention back to him. "It's Stan and Kenny! Why helloo!" He said to the two of them. He turned to me and gave me a mean spirited smile. "Look Kyle, now you can have sex with them tooo!"

I should have guessed that Cartman would turn on me like that, but it still fucking HURT. I glared at him.

And then the bastard had the guile to reach out and grab me by the wrist. He hauled me up against himself, and tried to kiss me. I was livid. "CARTMAN! Let me go!" I seethed as I hit him. He squeezed my wrist harder, trying to get me to stop attacking him, I suppose.

"Let. Him. Go." Stan said very deliberately. His voice had a very scary sounding edge to it.

Oh Fuck. I stopped struggling right away, breathing deeply to try to regain control of myself. I had to try to defuse the situation, not make it worse. "It's okay Stan." I said when I trusted myself to speak. "I'm fine."

"Yes Stan." Cartman said, the self important smirk still heavy in his voice. "It's okay, he likes it… don't you Jew?" He asked as he reached down and grabbed my ass with a large beefy hand.

I saw red. For a moment I stopped caring if Stan got involved, because right then I wanted to kill him just as much as Stan did. I raged at him in hurt anger, hitting him over and over to get him to let me go. He tried to keep me in place by squeezing my wrist again and I countered by kicking him in the kneecap to finally win my freedom.

I stumbled against the alley wall and would have continued to yell at him if Kenny didn't interrupt right then.

"DUDE!" Kenny interrupted, staring at us both now with disbelief painted all over his face. He turned and looked at me. "You've been fucking Cartman?!" He exclaimed.

"Not by choice." That was Stan now. I shut my eyes briefly. He was wrong. I made my choice didn't I? And I just got fucked over for it thank you very much…

"That… right there, that wasn't by choice?" Kenny retorted. "Dude! I wish I could get girls to respond like that!"

I groaned louder and buried my head in my hands. I slumped to the pavement… hopelessly embarrassed. I was no longer mad, angry, or upset. Just horribly, deeply ashamed. I wished a hole would open up in the ground and suck me into it. I wanted nothing more to be a million miles away… or perhaps dead… anywhere but in a back alley in a crappy town called South Park.

I barely heard Stan defend me to Kenny. "You know how much of a manipulative fuck Cartman is," He snapped. I didn't see it, but I assumed that Stan turned his attention back to Cartman to continue. "I told you Cartman, if I ever saw you touch Kyle again I'd kill you and I _meant it_."

It took a couple seconds for what Stan said to set in.

When it did my embarrassment waned a tiny bit to be replaced with concern. I looked up from my hands. "Stan?" I asked.

Stan didn't answer and continued to advance on Cartman, focused entirely on him. "Stan, what the fuck? Dude! I don't need you to defend me." I scrambled back to my feet. "Stan!"

The two started circling each other. Stan still looked like he was going to kill, but Cartman had a particular gleam in his eye. I could tell he was enjoying this.

Fuck. I needed to swim back out of my misery and stop this, because this was MY fault.

I strode towards Stan, grabbing him by the shoulder, and wrenching him away from Cartman. "Both of you stop it," I snapped. When Stan turned his murderous gaze on me, I glared back. "Stan. Come on. This is STUPID…"

"No Kyle." He said through gritted teeth. "I'm not going to let him fuck with you anymore."

Oh… great. He still thought Cartman was responsible for this. "I told you already Stan," I replied as earnestly as I could. I was acutely aware that Cartman and Kenny were still there as I lowered my voice. "Ienjoyedit," I told him. "As you can obviously see by the way we…" I trailed off.

Now all that angry rage was focused on me. "And you're obviously more fucked up than I thought you were," Stan hissed, grabbing me by the shoulders and shaking me. For a terrified moment I thought he was going to hit me and I just stared at him as he continued. "But I'm not going to let some sicko freak I used to call a friend use you like you're his personal fuck toy, got it?"  
I closed my eyes briefly. I was NOT having this conversation in front of Cartman and Kenny. I wasn't. I opened my eyes again and just went with begging. "Stan please don't do this." I said, trying to squirm out of the hold he had on my shoulders. "I already told him to stop… he's not going to anymore…"

That didn't help… Stan just looked angrier. "What the fuck was that just NOW?" He shouted at me, making a hand gesture at the alley wall.

I winced again and shook my head. "It's long and complicated Stan,"

Stan growled. Actually fucking growled. He started to turn back to Cartman…

I grabbed Stan's arm quickly, preempting him. "But I can explain, really…" I said, trying to turn him back towards me.

Cartman spoke up, interrupting me with a pretend yawn. "Well, It's been nice talking to you all, really… but I should be heading back now. See, you know, you all tomorrow and stuff."

He turned and began to walk back down the alley away from us.

I felt relief. For about a half a second.

As soon as Stan realized that Cartman was retreating he twisted away from me. "Come back here!" He shouted at the same time I shouted "Stan don't!"

I was too late. Stan was on him nearly instantly, pushing him up again the brick of the alley wall as he hit him again and again.

Kenny and I both stared at them. I exchanged glances with the blond. He looked about as stunned as I felt right about then.

And to make matters worse Stan can fight. He was hitting Cartman in the face and wasn't pulling anything back from the punches. I heard Cartman's head crack against the bricks before the larger boy managed to push Stan off of himself. That lasted about two seconds before Stan charged him and landed him back against the wall.

I had to try to break this up again. I ran towards them.

As I was running I saw the hand motion. Cartman slipped a hand into his pocket and came up with something. It happened extremely fast… to fast for me to prevent it from happening, though I tried. "NO!" I shouted, lunging at Stan to push him away. There was a flash of metal before I could reach him and then Stan stumbled backwards right into me.

"STAN!" I screamed, ducking around to his side and grabbing his arm.

It was horrible… like watching a movie, except this wasn't some random protagonist you barely care about who had just gotten stabbed… it was my BEST FRIEND. The absolute shocked look on Stan's face didn't change as he reached down with the arm I wasn't holding… touched his side, and brought his hand to his face. Realization flooded across his face as he saw blood.

I saw the blood too. I stared at his fingers which glistened in the streetlight.

"You stabbed me." Stan said, the disbelief in his voice evident as he looked up at Cartman. "You fucking bastard, you stabbed me!" It was almost like it was then that the pain hit… Stan doubled up on himself suddenly, wrenching out of my grasp with the force of it. I tried to catch him again as he fell to his knees. He let out a pained grunt as he continued to bend in on himself, arms folded around his side.

I think I was in shock and I wasn't even the one who was stabbed. This was all playing out like a nightmare and I really wanted to wake up from it right about then.

"Holy shit!" Kenny said with almost equal disbelief from the other side of Stan. "Stan?" He questioned, kneeling and placing a hand on his shoulder.

"I'll be okay Kenny," Stan ground out from between clenched teeth. His head jerked up and he glared at Cartman.

I looked at Cartman as well. He looked so uncertain. It was an expression that I've rarely seen on his face, recently at least. The switch blade hung loosely in his one hand, dangling towards the ground. "S-stan?" He questioned, sounding, at that moment, like a little lost boy. Too bad I didn't give a fuck about how he felt right then.

"I'm going to kill you, Cartman." Stan said in a very low, very deliberate voice. He made a move to get back to his feet.

That got me back into the action. "Stan don't!" I said desperately, trying to get him to stay down. "I need to see that wound! Stan! STAN!"

I don't know where the fuck Stan got so strong but he threw me off of him with his elbow as he got up.

Cartman's eyes widened. He took a step back… Stan took a step towards him.

God. I had SEEN this. I had seen that stoney blank expression on Stan's face before… when I though he was going to kill me when he found out about Cartman and I in the first place. Maybe Cartman wasn't the only psychopath around here…

Cartman had had enough. He turned tail and ran.

Stan took off after him.

"Stop!" I screamed after them both, scrambling to my feet. "STAN!" I turned to where Kenny stood staring after the two of them with wide-eyed disbelief. Shit, I had to do something. Before my best friend ended up bleeding to death or killed by Cartman when Cartman got cornered and decided to stab him a couple more times.

I fished my cell phone out of my pocket. "Kenny, call the hospital!" I gasped out at him as I tossed it at him. I then picked up and ran after them.

-

I found Stan slumped against a building about a block away, under a street lamp. I ran to him, panting for breath and knelt down in front of him.

"Stan?" I asked. Oh god please don't say it was too late…

He raised his head. "Kyle…" He managed. His face wasn't stoney and scary anymore, but rather confused and lost. And sad. "Kyle… I'm sorry…" There were tears in his eyes, though I wasn't sure if they were from sadness or pain.

I knelt down in front of him, my eyes welling up as well, despite myself. "Why did you have to do that Stan?" I demanded to know. I gripped his shoulders. "It wasn't your fight!"

He gave me a solemn look. "I was…" He paused for breath, still obviously in pain. "… being a good friend." He finished. He looked to the side.

I followed his gaze down to a glimmer in the snow.

I recognized it instantly. Cartman's knife.

I reached for it and picked it up and turning it over in my hand. "He dropped it before he could stab me again." Stan said between gasps for breath, making a hand motion to it. "Kyle…"

I jerked my head up and stared at him. I took in all of him… the fact that his hands were covered in blood, and pressed to his side, attempting to stem the flow from the wound. The fact that his face was white, even in the darkness and the fact that he was having trouble breathing, though I don't know how much of that was because he was hyperventilating. Either way, he needed to get to a doctor…

I looked up to see Kenny running towards us, his hood down so that his messy blond hair stuck out all over. My cell phone was pressed against one of his ears. "Holy Shit dude!" The blond declared when he had reached us, dropping to his knees in front of Stan and inspecting him with concern.

"Ambulance?" I asked him, gesturing to my cell. Kenny looked up at me and nodded quickly.

I took another look at Stan. His teeth were clenched in pain as Kenny ran his free hand over his forehead and talked softly, though to Stan or into the cell phone, I couldn't tell.

God… this was all my fault… well, partly my fault. And Cartman was still out there, running away from the mess he made as usual. Fuck… Stan could die and Cartman was no where to be seen. I felt a sudden bubbling rage.

"What way did he go Stan?" I asked deliberately.

Stan turned his head towards me. "Down there," He replied, pointing with a head jerk in that direction.

I gripped the knife in my fist. "I'm going after Cartman," I told them both.

I didn't wait for a reply… didn't look to see the shocked look Kenny gave me or the worried one Stan gave me. I didn't want to see. I swiftly took off down the street, running away from the both of them as fast as I could.

-

When I paused to get my bearings straight a couple blocks later, I recognized the street I was on. It was Kenny's street. Huh. Interesting.

And there was Cartman, at the very end of the road. Even though I couldn't make out anything but a vague outline of another person I could tell his lumbering bulk from a mile away.

"God damn it," I muttered under my breath as I began to run again. No, he wasn't going to pull off one of his disappearing acts and vanish. I wanted… no, _needed_ to confront him on this. He had hurt Stan, and I wanted to scream and yell at him, maybe stab him as well. Well not stab him, even though I was holding the knife in my hand in a death grip. But screaming and yelling sounded good.

As I followed him the rage I felt while standing over Stan slowly turned back into an over-whelming sense of guilt. No matter how much I wanted to blame Cartman, this was MY fault. If I had just used more self control. If I had just not kissed him back, Stan may not be bleeding to death in the snow somewhere. God.

Cartman…

I wanted to talk to him right then, to curse at him and make him stop running away, but I just didn't know what to say. I also felt like if I opened my mouth to say anything I'd end up crying. I felt like crying, but held it in as I continued to follow him, up one street and down the next.

We ended up ducking behind a couple of shops that were closed for the day, probably a block or two away from where I had left Stan due to us doubling back after Kenny's street. I could tell he was trying to loose me, it was really dark back here, and only light was from the whole two buildings that had backlights on. I had nearly caught up to him… I could hear his laboured breathing in front of me as he gasped and choked for breath… when he suddenly disappeared.

I swore under my breath and broke into a run.

There he was. He had made the unfortunate decision to turn between two of the buildings, not realizing that a fence broke off the exit and he was trapped. I could see where the fence was only because the street beyond it was lit by street lamps, leaving a pitch black wall that existed completely in shadow. It was far too high for him to get over. He was walking backwards now… facing me though I doubted he could see me in the dark. One lone building light highlighted his face as he stepped into it briefly… he was as white as Stan was back where I had left him. He looked hunted. The beads of sweat across his brow glistened in the light. He stepped out of the light again and back into the shadows. He didn't have anywhere to go though… and if he kept on walking, he was going to hit that fence soon. I felt sort of relieved and slowed to a walk, and approached the light he had just walked under, the sound of my boots crunching in the snow. At the same time I went over in my mind what I'd say to him. I was just about to speak, say something pointless and angry to the effect of "Fuck you Cartman, you fucking asshole," when the shadow of him made a quick jerking motion.

Twin gunshots rang through the night.

Something hit my shoulder at the same time. I stumbled backwards a step with the force of the blow and instantly felt a blossoming of pain in my chest.

I yelped and brought up my left hand to the injury I knew was there. The knife fell from my grasp, forgotten, clinking to the ground and sliding several feet away to disappear into the thick shadows.

"Cartman?!" I cried out at his outline, which was presently cursing loudly at the recoil. How the hell did he get a gun?! Oh god… all I could think about was how much fucking pain I was in as I gripped my shoulder. My vision swam momentarily…

"Holy _shit_." I heard Cartman say. "Kyle!" He ran towards me, dropping the gun as he went. He couldn't see me I'm sure, but that didn't stop him from blindly reaching for me. When his hands connected with my jacket, he grabbed me roughly and half walked half dragged me into the light. My legs gave out after only a couple steps and he fell with me.

His beefy hands were on me quickly, pawing me, turning me over and pulling me into his lap.

I let out a string of expletives as he made short work of my jacket, fumbling the zipper down and pushing the fabric aside so that he could get at the wound. Unfortunately yanking on my clothes like that just made it hurt worse. I couldn't even fucking feel my right arm any more, and my chest felt like it was going to explode. It really set in when I saw the blood as he peeled back the layers of clothing.

"Fuck dude! You shot me! Ohgodohgod, ohfuuuuckkkk!" I was sucking in breaths quickly now, almost hyperventilating both from shock and pain. "Huhahaaaghhhh!!!"

He looked pretty desperate now as he gripped the sides of my head with his bloody hands. "Shhh… shhh… it's okay Kyle." He said, and I remember thinking that that was the most ridiculous thing I had ever heard him say as he was getting bloody finger prints on my face right then. Bloody finger prints made from MY blood. He lowered a hand onto my injury… presumably to try and staunch the blood flow. At the time, however, I thought he was trying to torture me more. "It's going to be okay." He said again, pushing down on the wound.

I tried to shove his hand away with my still working left hand because it fucking hurt. "How…" I had to pause for breath… it was becoming increasingly hard for me to breathe. "How is it going to be okay?!" I asked. "Fuck you Cartman! You SHOT me!"

"I know god damn it!" He returned, leaving my wound to grasp my jacket desperately as he peered down at me. "I'm sorry!" That was the first time, I think, I've ever seen Cartman apologize for something sincerely. "Why didn't you SAY something Kyle?" He demanded to know. "I thought you were Stan!" He added.

"You were going to _SHOOT_ Stan?!" I yelled… or tried to yell… I ended up wheezing thorough part of that sentence.

Cartman looked belligerent. "He was going to kill me!" He returned.

"_I'M_ going to kill you!" I shouted. That was painful. "HaaaRRGHGHHH!!" I was crying because it hurt so bad. "Oh God Cartman, you shot me," I whimpered as I tried to roll up into a ball. "You shot me, you shot me, you fucking bastard…." I was sobbing now, my breath hitching, barely able to note things happening in the world around me. I was vaguely aware of the distant wail of an ambulance siren… and illogically I thought it was coming for me even though it was obviously for Stan, who was still out there, somewhere, bleeding to death. My world became very narrowly focused… the overwhelming pain in my shoulder… the fact that Cartman was holding me tightly on his lap, his arm around my neck and back, supporting me. The fact that his face was mere inches from mine. That his lips moved, but there was no sound coming out of them.

That was odd. Then I realized I was moving my mouth as well, and I'm fairly sure I was trying to tell him he had to take me to the ambulance or I'd die. But I couldn't hear the sound of my own voice either.

Yes… very strange. And my shoulder didn't hurt as much right then.

It was only when my vision started to tunnel to black that I realized I was about to pass out.

I could see his face above mine, rapidly fading, and thought how worried he looked as he silently shouted at me and shook me, trying to get me to respond. That desperation on his face… that was for me.

I smiled slightly as the tunnel deepened and my eyes slid closed. My last disjointed thought was that it was obvious that Cartman loved me. That was the final irony wasn't it? I was dying, and he had killed me, but at least I got to take a little bit of the fucking bastard with me as I went.


	6. Innocence

This should have been split into two parts, but I decided there wasn't enough to material to make the second part work. So this part is as long as two put together. Hope you don't mind… (It means you get to avoid the cliffhanger ending.)

To my reviewers – I'm sorry for ruining your day/making you happy. Really sorry about that. You guys rock so much though. Thanks for reading!

I also wanted to say this fic has officially gone on 5 chapters longer than I planned. Yay for one shot ideas running away with you.  
I found an awesome song while writing this part -- it's by Within Temptation and it's called "Angels". I usually don't do the entire recommend songs thing, but whatever, this part took me two weeks to write, I can write long Author's notes and recommend songs to make up for it.  
Other recommended song for this part, because it's so appropriate: Placebo's "Infra-Red". Listened to that one a lot too during writing this. ("Someone call the ambulance…" XD )

This part is told by Kenny's point of view. Since the guy is for the most part a prop on the series… some of the characterization come from my own guesswork on how he'd be when he's 14, some is borrowed from fandom. I would say he is OOC, but seriously? Can you even OOC an orange parka?

That's it! Enjoy the fic!

--------------  
Chapter 6  
**Innocence**

-

_Kenny's point of view… _

My friends are fucked up.

You probably know this already. I'll tell you again anyway. They are. I may be a ghetto trash baby who smokes and helps my dad drink away the welfare checks, and I may be a proud burden on society, but that's nothing compared to my friends.

I guarantee at least one of them will put me to shame by the time they turn 18, whether it is because they're in jail, dead, or have caused large amounts of state property damage.

They're scary. But that's why I love them.

There's Stan Marsh, the loveable moody tormented jock. That means between periods of angsty depression over why a girl won't have anything to do with him, he can also kick anyone's ass at any sport he tries. There's Kyle Broflovski, who keeps on getting involved in social issues just like his Mom, is flaming gay and Jewish to boot. That makes him a magnet for every redneck asshole in town who wants a handsome young man to beat the shit out of.

And then there's Cartman. Ahhh Cartman. Cartman, who was an accomplice to murder at the tender age of 9, who has limited abilities to feel guilt and often resembles a psychopath in his thinking. He's my favorite I think.

Well, after Butters. Leopold "Butters" Stotch is my favorite of all. His cute naivetéand refreshingly positive outlook on life, despite how much shit has happened to him, is adorable. It also makes me certain that eventually he'll crack and go on a murderous rampage. Until then, though, I'll continue to enjoy his adorableness.

It was Butters who first let me in on the brewing fucked-upedness that was to come, however inadvertently. He came walking up the street and I watched him from my porch railing, smoking my cigarette. I smiled to myself as he stopped, as usual, at the bottom of the walk and peered at me. "H-hey Kenny." He called. "How are you?"

"Good!" I replied. I was smiling, but it wasn't a mocking smile. I don't tease Butters like the rest of them.

"O-oh good!" He rubbed his knuckles together nervously, shifted from foot to foot, and then got the nerve up to ask. "C-can I come talk to ya?"

"Yes you can." I replied. I laughed and hopped down from the railing and sat on the steps. I patted the steps next to me. He still gets nervous when asking to come talk to me, even though we've done this at least a half a dozen times before. I still remember fondly of when he came to talk to me about Heidi Turner… the girl he's been going out with for over a year. Back then he was confused because she kept on hugging him and stuff. He didn't know what to do and was afraid she was just going to use him for sex if he did get together with her.

The next time he came to visit me for a talk, it happened to be about how Mr. Turner was scary and was going to eat him for dinner 'cause his precious daughter was only 14.

"What's up with you and Heidi this time?" I asked him as he sat beside me.

He laughed at that, and then smiled down at his lap. "Heh, no-no, things are going good with me and her."

I raised an eyebrow. "Well that's good to know…" I trailed off, and waited for him to continue.

He looked up and the smile faded. "I'm worried about Kyle." He said.

"Yeah?" I replied. Kyle. Oh. We also had a talk about Kyle back in September, just after Kyle had been jumped. Butters came to talk to me because he couldn't wrap his head around someone wanting to hurt one of his friends based on his sexual preference. He actually looked close to tears when he noted how Kyle was having difficulty sitting, something I hadn't picked up on yet despite being a pervert. "W-why would they hurt K-kyle like that?" He had asked, pale blue eyes brimming with tears.

I had put an arm around his shoulders at that. "Sometimes people aren't very nice." I had said. "And sometimes they don't feel very good about themselves. So they feel the need to make other people not feel good about themselves either."

He blinked up at me past his tears. "I-is that why Cartman said those things to him at lunch?" He asked.

I had frowned at that. What Cartman had said to Kyle at lunch suddenly made a lot more sense. He had known about the rape, he had to, what with all the comments about being fucked in the ass. Kyle getting more upset that he usually did made more sense too. "Cartman is a special case," I replied. "He gets off on making people suffer."

Butters flinched visibly at that, though I'm sure this wasn't news to him. He has suffered just as much as Kyle has at a gloating Cartman's hands… perhaps more because Butters actually thought they were friends at one point. They aren't anymore of course. We all know that Cartman's a fairly fucked up person and he's managed to fuck up Butters a couple of times too. Luckily Butters can learn to stay away from things that harm him, thank God. He deliberately avoids approaching the fatass, I've seen it at school.

Today the subject was on Cartman again. "I saw them sitting together at lunch." The blond noted. "And just the other day Kyle spent all day hanging out with me."

I didn't get the connection at first. I looked the nervous blond up and down. "Maybe Kyle just wanted to hang out with you." I said, raising an eyebrow.

"Heh." Butters smiled and shook his head. "I-I wish I could believe that Kenny, but Kyle and I—well we're just not very much a like I'm afraid…"

I considered, then figured out what he was driving at. "So you think he was hanging out with you to get away from Cartman?" I asked.

Butters looked pensive. "I dunno why Kenny. I mean Cartman has been awfully nice to him since, uh, September and all that… but I've never seen Kyle actually want to sit beside him at lunch afore… and Stan's been hanging out with you now…"

There was a faint longing tone in Butter's voice. He wished that the other boys would sit beside him more often and treat him like a friend. I was the only one who really ever talked to him… except for Stan occasionally. Kyle and Cartman barely knew he existed.

The poor kid. I focused on the situation though, and not Butters' lot in life to be the permanent bitch. Stan HAD been hanging out with me a lot lately… I didn't mind at all. I was used to sitting there listening to Stan bitch and moan about woman, which was his favorite topic of conversation. It meant I could gloat silently, knowing I was getting laid and he wasn't.

I thought about the situation that Butters had brought up, turning it over in my mind. Honestly, I had no idea why Cartman was being nice to Kyle… besides the fact that maybe he had decided to admit that he liked the guy. I've known that since Elementary, but Cartman's very good at denial.

That would also explain why Stan was spending more time with me, if he was upset over Kyle spending time with Cartman.

Huh. "I'll ask Stan, okay?" I replied to Butters.

"H-hey thanks Kenny." Butters smiled his cute little smile. "I hope Kyle's gonna be okay and all after everything that's happened to him."

I gave Butters a smile and patted him on the shoulder. He beamed at that. He really _is_ too adorable for words you know?

-

Stan didn't tell me anything I couldn't have guessed. He basically said that he felt like Kyle needed his space after everything to recover and all that. This would explain why Kyle was hanging out with other people… and why Stan was ignoring him.

I didn't suppose Kyle needed his best friend to ignore him completely after being beaten, fucked and left for dead, but I didn't say that to Stan. I should have, looking back on that. It would have saved a lot of people a lot of pain if I just told Stan that I thought he was being a douche.

Oh well. You can't change the past once it's past.

-

The next time that Butters came to visit me it was the first week of December.

It was right before dinner time. This time he didn't wait to ask politely to come up the walk, instead he zoomed up it and seemed to remember himself about half way to the door. He stopped suddenly and jiggled from one leg to the next. "Kenny?" He blurted.

I hoped down the railing, putting out my cigarette on the wood. "What is it?" I asked, concerned.

His hands rubbed together. "Ah, where were you at l-lunch Kenny?"

I smirked. "Getting laid." I replied. That was actually true. There is a wooded area a couple blocks from the school that has many places to have sex if you don't mind the cold. Incidentally I was with Shelley. She's been feeling me up since the fifth grade and has caused me to miss more classes than I can count… I sighed at the memories and smiled lecherously at Butters.

Butters actually did a double take at the look on my face before continuing. "Oh! Ahh… well you missed the fight." He said blushing and looking down at his hands.

"Fight?" I asked. I actually walked towards him, and grasped his shoulders when I got there, because he was vibrating with Tweek-like nervous energy.

Butters nodded eagerly. "Stan attacked Eric… t-they were sent to the office."

It was my turn to do a double take. "**_Stan_** attacked him?" I said. That RARELY happened. It had to be fairly serious or involve Kyle for Stan to attack… oh.

"It was about Kyle," Butters' continued, confirming my thoughts. He looked one way and then the next down the street then when he spoke again it was in a hushed tone. "Kyle actually told him NOT to attack him. Isn't that strange? And S-stan did it anyway."

That _was_ strange. Then again, when didn't my friends act strange? I frowned and pulled my hood up. "I'll go visit Stan and find out what's going on, 'kay?" I told him.

-

Shelley answered the door when I got to the house. Believe it or not, despite having really awesome dirty nasty sex when we're supposed to be at school, we treat each other like normal sorta-friends the rest of the time. I still and always will be Stan's friend first… she knows that and is perfectly okay with it... since to her I'm just a fuck toy. I'm okay with that too.

"Hey Shelley." I greeted her. "Is Stan there?"

"Fucktard?" She said, rolling her eyes. "Yeah, he's home. He's been pissy all night though." She motioned me to come in.

At the same time I heard a crash coming from Stan's upstairs bedroom.

"Holy shit." I observed as I kicked off my shoes.

"Yeah. Have fun with that." Shelley replied as she wandered into the kitchen, leaving me alone in the foyer.

I wandered upstairs to Stan's room with a mild amount of trepidation. I even knocked on his door before going into his room instead of barging in like I usually do. I got an irritated "WHAT?" for my troubles.

I opened his door and stepped in. His room was a mess… beyond what it is usually. Stan was sitting near his closet, chucking things forcefully one way and the next. It took me a couple seconds to realize he was probably trying to clean his room. Too bad he was actually doing more damage than not.

I folded my arms across my chest and leaned back against his door. "What's up with you?"

"Nothing!" Stan growled.

Bullshit. I was quiet as I ducked flying clothes and papers and went to sit on Stan's bed. After about 5 minutes he cooled enough to talk to me, however briefly.

"Cartman." He said simply.

"Fucking with Kyle?" His head came up and he glared at me, his blue eyes flashing dangerously. That would be correct then. "Dude, Cartman's always fucking with Kyle." I said placidly.

"Not this way," Stan grumbled, looking away.

I raised an eyebrow. "Then how…?"

Stan chucked several three ring binders against the wall. "I don't want to talk about it!" He shouted at me.

Whoa. I fell silent and wrapped my arms around my legs. I watched as he forcefully moved sports equipment and books from one side of his closet to the next. He found a chocolate bar in the mess too, only a little bit squished. That got tossed at me, probably as a silent apology for yelling at me.

I accepted the candy, and silently ate it while he worked himself out. After a few more minutes he stopped throwing things all over the room and slumped into his desk chair.

"Do you want to go kill Cartman?" I asked jokingly. "I'll help." I added.

He gave me a glowering look that told me he didn't think that comment was very funny.

"Don't tempt me," He said, absolutely serious.

I cleared my throat a bit nervously. "Stan, is Kyle alright?" I asked, absolutely serious as well. I was beginning to get worried.

Stan shrugged. "I don't know." He admitted with a huff a few seconds later.

I frowned. That wasn't good. "Should we go visit him?" I asked.

Stan shook his head 'no'. Then he thought about it for a bit.

"Yeah sure," He replied. He got up and grabbed his jacket. "Coming?" He asked.

Of course I was coming. I hoped down off his bed and followed him out of the house.

-

It was on the way to Kyle's house that I learned why, exactly, Stan was so upset.

It was quite impressive to see Kyle and Cartman making out like that. It took several minutes to completely compute… but when it did suddenly everything made extraordinary crystal clear sense.

Cartman was **_literally_** fucking with Kyle. Wow. And Stan wanted to kill him because of it. If I had popcorn with me right then, I would have happily been munching on it, because this was going to be a good one.

Sure enough it only got better… well, before it got worse. Kyle kept on giving his opinion on the situation and telling Stan to back off and Cartman that he hated him and all that, but no one cared what he said. I could see that this was really only between Stan and Cartman. I suppose it was just the continuation of the lunchtime fight.

I didn't however, realize how serious this was until Stan got stabbed. Kyle's scream had my ears ringing as I ran to Stan's side.

Cartman took off.

And, like an idiot, Stan took off after him.

And then Kyle ran after them both.

What did I do, you ask? I got stuck calling 911. Hoo-ray.

-

I found Kyle hovering over Stan a couple blocks away. Stan looked in pretty rough shape, he was breathing heavily and his hands were clenched to his side. I knew it was bad by the way Kyle looked, standing over him like that, with his hands on his best friend's shoulders. They shared a look that only best guy friends share, and usually in dramatic movies before one of them goes off to avenge their bloodline or something. In short, they looked gay.

Not that I gave a shit. I was still giving my A/S/L to the 911 woman on the cell. If it weren't such an emergency I actually would have been flattered that she wanted to know so much about me.

When I reached Stan I saw the blood he was trying desperately to keep at bay. I interrupted the lady to exclaim over him.

I nodded when Kyle asked if I was getting an ambulance. It was my turn to hover over Stan with concern. "Don't worry dude, help'll be here soon," I told him softly.

"What way did he go, Stan?" Kyle asked.

Stan turned his head to the side. "Down there," He replied, pointing with a head jerk in that direction.

I looked up at Kyle. The guy had Cartman's knife in his hand. He also looked like he wanted to kill, which is kinda a scary to see on Kyle's face. "I'm going after him," He announced with determination, and with that he was off.

"Fuck!" I swore under my breath as I watched him go. At the same time Stan, who looked really worried, started to struggle to get up.

"No you don't," I told him, crouching down beside him.

"What was that?" The 911 operator asked.

"I wasn't talking to you," I replied. She then asked again for our location AGAIN, so I had to continue to tell her while sitting beside Stan. I put my free arm around him to convince him not to get up and go after Kyle.

I finished with the 911 woman and snapped the cell phone closed, shoving it in my pocket. I held Stan closer as he continued to pant in pain. I felt kinda helpless, but I knew all we really could do was sit here and wait.

-

The cold dart of fear that ran through me when I heard the gunshots was the same one that caused Stan to jerk in my arms. His eyes got impossibly large as he stared up at me.

"Kyle," He whispered. "Kyle." His voice increased in volume until he was nearly screaming. "Kyle! Kyle! _Kyle! KYLE!_"

"Stan!" I shouted at him. I had to practically get on top of him to prevent him from getting to his feet. "STAN! Stay put! God damn it!" I tried to turn his head to get him to look at me. "You're not going to help him any by being dead!" When he continued to struggle I elaborated. "If you don't STAY here you're going to bleed to death out there somewhere where no one can find you!"

He gave me a stubborn look. "I don't care! KYLE! _KYLE_!!"

I slapped him. Partly because he needed it, partly because I was afraid he was going to hurt himself more if he kept twisting back and forth the way he was.

He stopped struggling after that and started sobbing, great dry heaves that shook his entire body and must have hurt his stab wound like hell. I just wrapped my arms around him and brushed his stringy black hair back from his forehead. "Shhh, it's gonna be okay."

"N-no it's NOT," He managed to gasp out.

I didn't reply. I knew he was right. Consoling words were just that… words.

I knew what had happened out there. I knew deep down that it was Cartman who fired that gun, just as Stan knew instinctively that Kyle had been the one who had been shot. It could have been Stan's uncle Jimbo or some other idiot firing a gun in a completely unrelated incident, but I doubted it. I felt too sick inside for it to be someone else.

I heard the distant wail of an ambulance about that time and felt very relieved despite the gunshots. Stan, at least, might make it. He was practically catatonic in my arms now, his sobs coming in painful little gasps.

My mind pieced together a fairly complete picture of what had happened even before Cartman later told me the details. He had gotten the gun that I had mostly forgotten about out from under my porch. I figured that out because he had headed in the direction of my street, and that was the only firearm I knew he knew of. I knew that Kyle went after him with a knife, and that Kyle was pissed because Cartman had stabbed Stan. If Cartman felt threatened enough he would shoot Kyle, despite apparently being lovers or whatever for the last little while.

I squeezed my eyes shut. I was not looking forwards to going to find Kyle's body when I was done getting Stan to the hospital. I still had his cell phone in my pocket as well. I may not be as close to Kyle as Stan was but I still felt nauseous at the thought of seeing him dead and crumpled up in the snow somewhere. That is, if Cartman didn't try to hide the evidence. The thought of confronting Cartman to find out where he hid Kyle's body was made me feel nauseous as well. Tonight was going to suck ass, no matter how I looked at it…

-

The rest of the entire ambulance coming thing blurred together for me, except for the very end. The part where they had finished loading Stan on a stretcher and were about to close the doors and I saw Cartman's ample bulk coming down the street.

"STOP!" I shouted at the closest paramedic, wedging myself between the doors so he couldn't close them.

Irritation and shock warred on the man's face. "We have to go; this boy needs medical attention _now_!" He shouted right in my face.

I pointed. Cartman was close enough now for me to see that he was carrying Kyle in his arms. "That boy needs your attention more!" I lied. Kyle could have been dead for all I knew, but I needed to at least give him a chance. To give them _both_ a chance.

The man looked up and saw what I saw. Kyle was unconscious, a dead limp weight in Cartman's arms, head lolling and arms dangling. Cartman was trying to run towards us, which just made the fact that Kyle was out cold more obvious. "Shit," The paramedic swore.

The other paramedic pulled down the other stretcher and pushed past me. He leapt down to the ground and began to run towards Cartman.

I moved into the ambulance and held Stan's hand. His eyes fluttered open and he looked up at me. "Kyle?" He whispered past bloodless lips.

I nodded.

"Kid you need to get out of there, there isn't enough room for you!" The shouty paramedic yelled at me from outside. I gave Stan a last pat on the hand and hopped out of the ambulance.

I watched in the flashing lights as they carried the stretcher, complete with Kyle, back into the ambulance. Ten seconds later they had him loaded and five seconds after that the truck was roaring off towards Hell's Pass Hospital.

… Leaving Cartman and I standing in the middle of the road staring after it. Both of us were covered in blood, though I have to say Cartman was a bit more bloody than I. The red stuff had reached from his face to his shoes and his hands were covered with it. He had taken off his gloves somewhere along the way and had those bloody hands balled into fists at his sides.

I eyed him. He looked like he was in shock, which isn't an expression I often see on his face. He just stared after the ambulance as I looked him up and down. "Dude." I said. "You are in so much shit."

That snapped him out of it. He glared at me angrily and for a moment I thought he was going to attack me. Then he did an odd little head jerk and the expression on his face turned to one a bit more defensive than anything. "Shut up Kenny," He muttered. He turned and started to walk away.

"Wait…" I ran a bit to catch up to him.

That got a snarl out of him. "God damn it Kenny, I don't want to talk to you right now."

"Maybe talking would be good." I said, falling into step with him. I couldn't take my eyes off of his jacket. God, there was so much blood. It was fresh too… it glistened in the street light, turning his jacket shiny.

I couldn't help it… I needed to know. "Cartman is Kyle dead?" I breathed.

He let out a frustrated sigh. "I don't **_know_**." He replied. He wiped his hands off on his jeans self consciously and stuffed them in his pockets.

"WHY did you shoot him?" I asked.

He rolled his eyes. "Because I FELT like it. Jesus Christ, Kenny. Will you leave me alone?"

I just looked at him. Cartman shot me a nasty sidelong glance.

"Alright!" He finally exclaimed, exasperated. "I thought he was STAN, okay?"

It was my turn to be exasperated. "You thought…" I threw my hands in the air. "How could you not recognize Kyle? He doesn't look like Stan at all!"  
"It was _dark_." Cartman tried to walk faster. "God damn it, go _away_ Kenny." He added with a whine to his voice when I matched his speed.

I shook my head and continued, running around to face him. "We just sent two of our friends to the hospital Cartman!" His face twisted with hatred when he had to stop, but I didn't relent. "I'm not going away until you at least tell me what the fuck is going on! Why were you sleeping with Kyle anyway? What did you DO?"

He made a snarly face and pushed me violently out of the way. I fell on my ass and stared at his ample backside as he continued to walk away from me.

"CARTMAN!" I shouted after him, scrambling back to my feet. "Damn it." I muttered as I had to run to catch up with him.

"I told you to go _away_ Kenny." He growled darkly when I pulled into stride with him again.

"I'm not going anywhere." I replied stubbornly.

He stopped and turned on me suddenly, grabbing me by the collar of my jacket and throwing me up against the side of a building. "Leave me the fuck alone Kenny." He spat. "Or I'll fucking kill you too. Don't think I won't." He threatened, getting right into my face.

I'm retarded you know. The only thing I could think to say was: "You promise to fuck me first?" I grinned at him. When he looked shocked, I winked at him and licked my lips.

He let out a disgusted sound and dropped me. He then went back to walking away from me, this time visibly fuming.

I chose to risk walking along side him again.

"I _hate_ you Kenny." He muttered at me when it became obvious that I wasn't going anywhere.

"I know." I replied. I nonchalantly reached into my pocket and fished out my pack of cigarettes and lit one up.

I wondered what was going through his head as we looped down one block and up the next. After he stopped being irritated at me he had adopted a fairly blank expression on his face, his lips thinned into a line. At one point he stumbled a bit and shook his head slightly. I wondered if he was exhausted. I was beginning to feel a bit tired myself. It had been a hell of a day, what with sex at noon and near death at 6…

"Maybe you should go home." I suggested lightly. It was pretty cold out, being the first week and December and all… I was freezing my ass off and starting to shiver. I didn't have the extra layer of fat like he did to keep myself warm.

He shook his head again 'no'.

Another block and I put out the remains of my third cigarette under my heel. I didn't light another one, I only had two left to last me until I could steal more tomorrow.

At the end of the block after that was the bridge. He stopped in the middle of it and looked down over the railing. I stood beside him, peering into the pitch black waters with its grey blocks of ice embedded in it. I wondered briefly if he was considering jumping, then scratched that thought out as quickly as it had come. Cartman was the homicidal type, not the suicidal type.

After a couple minutes I sighed.

"How long have you been having sex with Kyle?" I asked, shifting from one foot to the other in a futile attempt to keep my circulation going.

I watched as he tightened his grip on the bridge railing. I wondered vaguely if he was going to turn around and attack me again.

He didn't. "Beginning of November." He replied shortly.

I did some quick figuring in my head. That was about when Kyle had begun to sit beside him at lunches. That made sense. What didn't make sense was why Kyle was even letting him touch him in the first place.

"And Kyle," I continued. "Was he _willing_?" I knew I was being insulting, but this was Cartman we're talking about. And it's no secret that Kyle doesn't like him. Didn't like him. Whatever.

Cartman looked like an impudent child. He pouted, then frowned. "Well he is NOW." He replied.

I shook my head, glaring at him. "Then, Cartman, then. The first time."

Cartman was silent for a long moment. I honestly expected him to lie to me. Or at least avoid the question. Instead he replied with a terse "No."

Jesus. My eyes slid closed. I already knew that answer, but having confirmation from Cartman's lips that he had forced Kyle… it made me feel queasy. No wonder Stan wanted to kill him. "You're such a fucking asshole Cartman." I said quietly.

He pushed off from the bridge abruptly. "Yeah, well." He said brusquely. That was it… no whining, no "But Kenny… it was his fault…" just acceptance. For some reason that scared me shitless… more than having him jam me up against a wall and say he was going to kill me, more than _anything_.

His eyes were cold when he looked at me and I had to suppress a shudder. He looked away first, thank god. "I'm going home." He announced.

-

I followed him home. He didn't attack me again. He just ignored me.

When we got to his house he stopped ignoring me. He grabbed my arm and pulled me aside. "Cover me," He hissed.

I watched as he took off his shoes, then peeked through the bottom corner of the living room window. I suppose the coast was clear because he opened his front door and, shoes tucked under his arm, tiptoed across the living room and up the stairs.

I followed him after getting my own shoes off.

"Cartman?" I asked outside of his bedroom door. I peeked inside. He was hiding something under his bed… probably the shoes.

"Eric? Poopiekins?" Liane Cartman's voice drifted up the stairs.

Cartman grumbled something under his breath before replying. "Goddamnit Mom, don't call me that!!" He yelled as he dove for his closet.

I watched, amused, as he stripped out of his dirty clothes in record time and began to get into new ones.

Not a moment too soon because Ms. Cartman had begun to come up the stairs. "Sweetie, the hospital called…"

Eric froze … for about half a second before continuing to pull his sweater over his fat. "So?" He shouted.

"Honey, your little friend is in the hospital."

"So he's alive then." It wasn't a question. Eric shoved me aside as he zoomed into the bathroom and shut the door. I heard water splashing.

"Well yes, honey, he is, but…" Liane made it to the top of the stairs. I shrugged at her. She didn't even notice I was covered in blood as she knocked worriedly at the bathroom door. "Honey?" She asked.

"Mooom, I'm _busy_." Cartman whined. "Go away!"

Amazingly enough she did, looking worried as she stepped back past me again and stood at the very top of the stairs.

I shrugged at her again, trying my best to look angelically innocent. After a couple of moments I got tired of that. I went over and opened the bathroom door and stuck my head inside. "Cartman?" I asked quietly. He was drying his face.

"What does the bitch want?" He grumbled.

I stuck my head back out of the bathroom door and looked at Ms. Cartman.

"Sweetie, the hospital wants some of your blood." She said, clasping her hands together nervously. "Your little friend is very sick."

Oh yeah! I remembered from back in grade 3 when Kyle got really sick. Something about Kyle having a rare blood type and Cartman being the only person in South Park with the same type. Which was very ironic…

"He's not sick," Cartman retorted. "He was shot." He stuck his head out of the bathroom door as well, face newly blood free. "You have the same blood type as me, why don't you do it?" He said snidely.

I glared at him and at the same time Ms. Cartman gave him the perfect dotting mother look. "You know why mommy can't donate blood sweetums." She said with a smile.

Cartman retreated back into the bathroom. "Yeah, 'cause you're a dirty whore." I heard him mutter.

I gave Ms. Cartman a helpless look. I actually like Ms. Cartman… it was because of her work, no matter how 'dirty', that the Cartmans have a nice house and a nice car and enough food on the table to get fat off of.

I would give anything to have Cartman's mom as my own.

Cartman reemerged from the bathroom with his hair neatly combed back and slightly damp. His transformation was complete. Nothing about him suggested he had just been covered in blood. I wished I could say the same.

Cartman gave us both a sour look in turn. "All _right_." He grumbled when I raised an eyebrow at him. He gave a self suffering sigh. "Let's go to the stupid hospital."

-

The moment we got there Cartman and his mom were escorted off to donate blood, leaving me to wander the halls alone.

I found the ER section and tried to find someone to help me.

I was in luck. A doctor stood outside one of the rooms reading something on a clip board.

"Doctor?" I asked desperately, running up to him. "Will my friends be okay?"

The Doctor looked totally confused. That is until he looked me up and down, taking in, I'm sure, the now dried blood stains on my jacket and jeans. "You must mean the two boys that were admitted tonight." He stated more than said.

I nodded. "I called the ambulance." I clarified as I saw him eye the bloodstains again. "Are they okay?" I repeated.

He frowned slightly, than sighed, putting down his clip board and running a hand through his graying hair. "A nurse should be helping you, but…" He crouched down and grasped me by the shoulders, giving me a very serious look.

"Your quick thinking probably saved their lives." He said. "They could both be dead right now if it weren't for you." He paused and considered for a moment, then shook his head. "We aren't sure if the gunshot wound victim will make it." He added, a little sadly. "He's lost a lot of blood and he needs surgery."  
"Kyle." I said. I don't know why it was important to me that the doctor knew his name… it just was. "His name is Kyle."

He was a nice doctor. He smiled and corrected himself for me. "Kyle." He replied. "The next 24 hours are very important for him. He's under observation right now, and we've been able to stop the bleeding." I must have looked really worried because he gave me a comforting little shake. "Time will tell, son. He's young and healthy, I'm sure if anyone could make it through this, he'll be able too." He stood again.

"… what about Stan?" I asked, swallowing past the strange lump that had formed in my throat.

The doctor smiled at me. He motioned me to follow him down the hall. I did so.

"The knife didn't hit anything major organs… but if you had waited much longer there's a chance he could have succumbed to shock brought on by the trauma."

We came to a room now, and the doctor pushed open the door and motioned me inside. He patted me on the shoulder again and left.

I didn't even notice. I was focused on Stan.

He was sitting in the bed nestled against pillows, bare-chested except for the gauze that covered his torso liberally. He was talking to his mom and dad and Shelley even though he was white as a sheet and looked bone tired.

"Stan?" I asked joyfully.

Stan managed to turn his head and smiled at me tiredly. "Hey Kenny." He said.

Before I could even approach the bed, both Mr. and Mrs. Marsh came over to me and started hugging and making a fuss over me. "Thank you so much for saving our son's life!" Mrs. Marsh exclaimed.

Randy gave me a hug too. "This really means a lot to us, Son. You're welcome at our house at any time."

"I – you're w-welcome..." I stuttered. Usually I don't stutter. I pulled my hood up out of embarrassment, covering my head.

Stan managed a weak laugh from over on the bed. "Mom, Dad, you're scaring him." He croaked out.

Mr. and Mrs. Marsh backed off and went back to his bedside. I walked up to the bed as well. Shelley winked at me and gave me a quick hug… using the pretense of being grateful as well to cop a feel of my ass. I grinned, though noone could see it past my hood.

"How is Kyle?" Stan asked, looking right at me. He wasn't smiling anymore.

"Now dear…" Mrs. Marsh tried, placing a hand on her son's shoulder.

"He's in pretty bad shape." I replied. My voice was muffled, but Stan, like the rest of my friends, is an expert at interpreting 'Kenny speak'. "He's lost a lot of blood. Cartman's donating blood right now for him."

I knew the moment the words left my mouth, it was a bad idea to bring up the fatass.

If it were possible, Stan got even whiter. His eyes widened. "CARTMAN?" He spat. "That son of a _bitch_, I'm going to kill--" He erupted into a coughing fit and clenched his side in pain.

"Son, you need to stop thinking about him," Mr. Marsh said. "See, you're going to rip out your stitches, and that wouldn't be very good now would it?"

Stan's eyes flashed and he glared up at his dad. "He nearly killed Kyle!" He replied. "He did this to me!" He pointed to his side.

"Stanley…" Mrs. Marsh tried.

Stan made a wild hand motion to my jacket. "That's MY blood on Kenny's jacket!" He exclaimed. "He DID that!"

Mrs. Marsh made an irritated sound with her mouth. "Randy, handle this." She said. She stepped over to me and put a hand on my shoulder. "Kenny, can I talk to you outside?" She asked.

I nodded silently. I glanced back at the remains of the family as Mrs. Marsh led me outside. Randy was already in the middle of one of his "now son…" lectures with Stan… and Shelley looked after me with a worried frown on her face.

-

Mrs. Marsh sat me down on the really comfortable chairs down the hall from Stan's room. She sat opposite of me, cupped her hands in her lap and considered me for a moment. Then she reached out and took my hood down again and smiled at me when she could see my face.

I wrinkled my nose at her. I wasn't mad at her, especially since I don't think it's possible to feel too threatened around Mrs. Marsh. She's too… motherly. Kyle's mom, on the other hand…

"Kenny, I need to ask you some questions about your friends, if it's okay with you." She looked worried. "I usually don't try to pry into my son's personal life, but I'm really worried about him. I hope you can understand that."

I nod silently.

She searched my face. "Kenny, can you tell me what happened tonight? I have a feeling that Stan's story may be a bit… uh…" She searched for the right word. "Slanted."

"He's angry." I replied. Duh.

She smiled. "I can understand that." She said. "I mean, I understand he's upset that his, uh, boyfriend likes another boy and all that…" She cleared her throat, and looked a bit flustered.

I… fell off my chair. I couldn't help it. She stared down at me, lying on the ground as I lay there and giggled my ass off for a good minute or so.

"Kenny?" She asked, looking suddenly much older than she was in her confusion.

I managed to regain control of myself after a good minute or so. It wasn't really nice for me to laugh at Stan's mom, no matter how funny I thought her thinking Stan was gay was.

She looked slightly irritated as I wiped the tears of joy from my eyes and sat back down on the chair.

"Sorry," I mumbled.

"… It's okay Kenny…" She began. "Just… will you please tell me what's going on?" She sounded more than a little bit frustrated.

I cleared my throat and forced back the chuckles. "First of all," I said, grinning. "First of all, your son is the straightest boy I know." I reached out and patted her hand sympathetically, because I knew this is going to hit her hard, especially if she had made up her mind that her son was queer.

Sure enough her eyes widened. "A… are you sure?" She replied. She lowered her voice, almost conspiringly. "Randy and I, we've been watching him and Sheila's boy for years now, and we're sure… well, _Randy_ is sure…"

I had to school my expression to prevent another round of giggles. "Kyle is the gay one." I replied. "Not…" A tiny giggle slipped out. "Your son."

"Oh." Mrs. Marsh said. "Ohhhhh." She frowned. "Are you sure?" She asked.

I sighed and rolled my eyes. "Mrs. Marsh, he talks about girls_ all the time_. His favorite subject of conversation is about getting some, or about the fact that he's NOT getting some from the girls he thinks are hot at our school."

"Oh." Mrs. Marsh says again. She pulls a face. "All right, I didn't need to know that." She confessed.

I considered briefly, than decided against letting her in on her daughter's torrid sex life. I could amuse myself by doing that some other time… when I didn't feel like getting laid anymore for one…

"I still don't know what, or why, tonight happened." Mrs. Marsh continued. "Any chance you could fill me in Kenny?" She asked.

I sighed and settled in for the haul.

I told her as much as I felt she needed to know. Basically that Cartman was having sex with Kyle (not fucking, though that would be more accurate) and that Stan felt it necessary to defend his best friend. That Cartman acted in self defense because her son attacked him first. (It was true, though saying it made me feel like scum. Stan and I both knew that Cartman deserved every inch of what he got and Stan _didn't_ deserve to get stabbed for it…)

Sharon Marsh blinked and leaned back in her chair with a sigh. "I think I'm getting the general idea." She said, pressing a hand to the side of her face temporarily. "So Stan thought Shelia's son was being abused by the Cartman boy and tried to defend him."

I nod and shifted uncomfortably in my chair. "Yeah." I replied.

"And how did Shelia's son end up getting shot?"

"Kyle went after Cartman after he stabbed Stan and Cartman mistook him for Stan." I told her seriously.

Mrs. Marsh groaned and put her head in her hands for a moment. "Okay, so let me get this straight… my son decided to try to beat up the Cartman boy because he's… involved with Sheila's son," She checked off on her fingers. "And got stabbed because of it. Then you…" She points at me. "Called an ambulance while Shelia's son went after the Cartman boy... who shot him accidentally because he thought he was my kid."

I nodded.

"And now… my son wants to kill the Cartman boy because he's donating blood in attempt to save Sheila's son, with whom he's involved with?"

I nodded again.

She gave me a sour look. "And you're sure my son isn't… peculiar?" She asked.

I nodded a final time… but this time I couldn't help it. A smile tweaked at the corner of my mouth and finally I broke into a giggle fit again.

"I'm sure," I gasped out once I regained control of myself again. Stan's mom didn't look too impressed, but that wasn't my fault. Haha, knowing that Stan's parents thought he was gay was fucking hilarious, and would continue to be for a long long time. When he recovered, I wasn't going to let Stan live that one down.

-

I felt exhausted after the talk with Stan's mom. I stumbled through the halls of the hospital, only pausing once to check the time on the clock on the wall. 11:30 PM. No wonder I was so tired.

I was seriously considering finding a nice comfy chair to curl up and sleep on when I found 'it'.

It being the room that had Kyle in it. I recognized Mrs. Broflovski's hair before anything else and my hands went instinctively to my hood, to draw it up over my face. I stopped when I saw the bed in the room she was in.

Oh God. I dropped my hood altogether and pressed my hands to the large glass observation window. Kyle looked pitiful… or would have looked pitiful if I could see him. Honestly all I could see were about fifty cords leading to various medical equipment, all monitoring his condition. I tore my eyes away from him to focus on the Broflovski's. They stood beside the nice doctor man, who was talking to them with a very serious look on his face. Mrs. Broflovski was dabbing her eyes with a tissue as she leaned against her husband, who looked worried and tense.

I felt sorry for them. I returned my gaze back to the medical equipment and watched at the respirator moved up and down.

In… out. In… out. In…

I didn't feel his presence until he was right behind me. I heard his _breathing_ first and a chill went up my spin.

I jerked around and stared into the face of Eric Cartman.

-

He completely ignored the fact that I looked like I had seen a ghost and stepped past me to press a hand to the glass.

"Ah." He said, when he saw the Broflovski's. He turned his attention to the bed.

I watched him as he watched Kyle breathe. In… out…

"Will he make it?" He asked. His voice was absolutely emotionless. He could have been asking me if I had a spare pencil.

I glared at him. "_Stan_ will." I replied.

That got some emotion out of him. Cartman made a face. "I don't care about _Stan_." He said flippantly.

I just looked at him. "Stan is your friend, Cartman." I said.

He looked at me. "Was my friend." He corrected. "That was before he tried to kill me."

'That's because he found out you were fucking his best friend.' I thought. I didn't say it though. There was no point. I just shook my head and went back to staring at the boy beyond the glass.

In… out. In… out. In…

The lump came back to my throat suddenly and my eyes began to tear up. I had to turn away. I slid to the floor and huddled with my knees up and my head in my arms so he wouldn't see me cry.

Several seconds crept by. At least I cry silently. I always do.

I felt him touch my shoulder. I shrugged his hand off, but he put back again. "Don't be a pussy Kenny." He said softly. I heard him kneel down next to me. "Come on Kenny," a faint whine entered his voice. "Damn it, stop that already."

"I hate you," I said, my voice muffled by my jacket sleeves. "Go AWAY." God damn it. I may be friends with the fat bastard, but crying in front of him wasn't something I wanted to do. EVER.

An arm slid around my back. He pulled me to him. I resisted for a half a second before giving up and leaning against him as I continued to cry silently. I was so miserable it actually took me a bit to realize that Cartman was doing something extremely out of character for him. Until today, I wouldn't have guessed that Cartman would do anything like, I dunno, hold me while I cried? That was fucked up. "I hate you so much." I whispered into his sweater once my tears had mostly stopped. "Why are you so fucked up?"

He let out a little snort of laughter.

I swiped the last tears off my cheeks angrily and glared up at his face.

He was smiling down at me. Kindly at that… he wasn't smirking for once. He also didn't answer.

I let out a little huff of breath and went back to resting my head against his chest. I was still extremely tired, which was made worse by the fact that I had been crying. My head was swimming.

I told myself that was why I was still letting him hold me. I clenched a handful of his red sweater and let it go again, smoothing the fabric under my hand.

"What if he dies?" I asked quietly, giving voice to the thought that had been haunting me all evening. What **_if _**Kyle died? There would be a spark… a life that meant so much to a lot of different people in this town… missing. Gone. I've known Kyle my whole life… I don't know what I'd do if he died…

Unfortunately thinking about loosing Kyle caused a fresh bought of silent tears. Cartman placed a hand on my shaking back.

"Shhh…" He soothed, patting me on the back gently. "Shh. Kyle's not going to die Kenny." He added cheerfully. There was laughter in his voice and I had to look up at him, wide-eyed. He grinned down at me. "He hates me too much to let me be the one to kill him."

Oh god.

I could actually see self loathing in his eyes.

There it was. Cartman could feel. Fuck me, I had him pegged wrong all along. I looked away again, staring down the hall of the hospital, my mind trying desperately to process this new piece of information. Cruel, mean, sadistic Cartman could hate himself. That… that meant he had feelings… which meant…

He didn't let me reflect long. He got up suddenly, taking me with him. "Well, Kenny," He said, brushing me off and wiping the tears off my cheeks, which made me push his hands away and want to draw my hood up defensively. His voice and body language had changed completely in less than two seconds. Which meant he was up to something. "I'm going to go now…"

"Where?" I asked him tonelessly.

His eyes glittered. He smiled again, but this time it wasn't nearly as nice as it was just a moment ago. "You don't need to know." He glanced at Kyle's room briefly then looked back at me and laughed at the expression on my face.

"Don't look so worried Kenny." He clapped me on the back. "I just have some things to work out, that's all." He took me by the shoulders and steered me down the hall towards the super comfy chairs I had been looking for before. "Here," He said, sitting me down on one of them. "Get some sleep. You look like hell."

I opened my mouth to protest, but he pressed a finger to his lips and shook his head. "I'll be back, okay?" He reassured me.

With that he left, walking down the hall and actually fucking _whistling _as he went. I stared after him with mild trepidation.

Jesus Christ. He was absolutely fucking insane.

I drew my knees up and placed my chin on them. Now I was sure I wasn't going to be able to get ANY sleep as my mind raced through what Cartman could possibly be up too…

-

I guess I fell asleep anyway because the next thing I knew he was shaking me awake. I was completely disorientated… I wondered why there were bright lights shining down at me and a Cartman smiling winningly at me. "Good Morning Kenny!" He said in a sugary sweet voice.

"C-Cartman?" I mumbled, sitting up and looking around in confusion. Where the hell…?

It came back to me in a rush. Hospital. Stan. Kyle. Cartman…

… who was holding out a coffee and a bagel towards me.

"What time is it?" I asked, hesitantly accepting the food and drink.

Cartman smiled at me. "6 AM," He replied. "I hope you had a good night sleep." He added.

"I-I guess…" I bit into the bagel and chewed slowly. He watched me intently while I ate, which was more than a little creepy.

"Kyle?" I tried.

"On the rapid road towards recovery," Cartman replied cheerfully. He gave a self satisfied sigh and leaned back in the chair he was in, looping his hands behind his head. "Yes, I do believe Kyle will live to be a pain in the ass another day."

"You must be happy about that," I said past my mouthful of food.

He shrugged but I noticed he didn't look me in the eye. "Whatever." His voice was clipped… I had touched where I shouldn't have I guess. He got up abruptly. "Eat up Kenny. I have some people I want you to meet when you're done."

A cold feeling settled in the pit of my stomach. "Who?" I asked.

"You'll see," He replied, loosing patience. "Eat already." He sounded annoyed. He stood and placed his hands on his hips, rocking from the balls of his feet to his heels. He seemed intent to look everywhere but at me.

I swallowed, despite the fact that my throat was suddenly very dry. God. I had a feeling I was NOT going to like this.

-

I didn't like it. He led me right to the cafeteria at the front of the hospital, where two Park County Police officers sat at a table, talking to each other. They got up and began to make their way towards us the moment they saw us.

I went white and pushed back against him, but he had an arm around my shoulder and held me in place. "Cartman?" I asked, panicked, as they approached. "What's going on?" The sudden thought that he had framed me came to mind. I wouldn't put it past him, that's for sure….

"Nothing major Kenny." Cartman said cheerfully. "The nice men just want to ask you some questions, that's all." He added.

They got to us and one of them held out his hand to me. "Are you Kenneth McCormick?" He asked me.

I stopped struggling long enough to stare up at him with absolute trepidation. "Y-yeah?" I squeaked.

The officer smiled at me. "My name is Officer Johnson." He said. "We would like to ask you some questions."

The other officer stepped forwards and took me by the arm. "Come with us please." He began to pull me away from Cartman.

"Cartman!" I shouted. I twisted, trying to get a good look at him. "CARTMAN!!"

He smiled at me and waved as the two officers led me out of the hospital.

-

I nearly had a heart attack by the time the officers let me in on what was going on.

I wasn't being charged with anything.

Unfortunately Kyle and Stan were.

I couldn't believe it at first, but police officers don't lie and don't really like it when you scream "You're fucking kidding me!!" at them really loudly.

Apparently Cartman had acted in self defense. Or so he told the cops. Not only that, in both cases Stan and Kyle had threatened his person first, which meant they were at fault.

What fucking sucked was the fact that he was right and I couldn't lie by saying it wasn't true. At least not in Stan's case. Stan _did_ attack Cartman first. And ended up stabbed for it.

I was _not_ happy.

I told them exactly how unhappy I was in fact.

They told me that I was going to go cool off and chucked me in a cell for a good two hours before taking my statement. Little did they know I cooled off about two minutes after screaming about Cartman's fuckupedness and had instead retreated to a nice little place inside my head with cars and beautiful women and Butters covered in whipped cream.

When they did take my statement I answered all of their questions in the most monosyllabic manner possible. Do I know who Eric Cartman? Yes. Was he attacked first? Yes. What was happening at the time? Stuff. Describe the surroundings. Cold. Why were you out at this time? Visiting friends.

And so on.

I didn't get home until 3:30 in the afternoon, twenty minutes before school would have let out if I had gone to school that day. Not that anyone noticed. I walked into the house and shrugged off my jacket, eyeing the dried blood that would permanently stain it. I put my jacket back on and went and had a shower with my clothes on.

Then I had my second last smoke. And thought about Butters in that whipped cream again. I gave up on that when I realized that one of my favorite fantasies was doing nothing to cheer me up.

I called the hospital and asked if Kyle was still alive. He was, though he was still in critical condition. The nurse sounded hopeful and told me his surgery had gone well that morning. That made me feel a little bit better.

At 4:30 I sat down on my bed and picked up the phone. I got Shelley.

"Shelley I need to talk to Stan," I said.

"Kenny?" She replied. She sounded worried. "How are you? What happened to you last night after mom grilled you?"

I sighed. "A lot of stuff Shelley. I don't want to talk about it right now." I stared despondently at the picture of last March's playmate of the month on my wall. "I need to talk to Stan, Shelley."

There was hesitation in her voice. "He's asleep Kenny, I…" She paused then sighed. "Just a sec, I'll get him up."

It took almost a minute and some scuffling in the background but then I got a really groggy sounding. "Hello?"

"Stan… it's me." I said.

"Kenny?" He replied, sounding a bit more awake. "What's up? Are you okay?"

I smiled humorlessly. "I should probably ask you that."

"I'm fine," He replied, a smile in his voice. He grunted. "Just gotta learn that my body doesn't want _move_ quickly any more, that's all."

I let out a fake little snort of laughter. It wasn't funny.

I sighed. "Stan?" I said.

"What is it Kenny?" He sounded concerned again.

I studied my hands. Breath in, breath out. Like Kyle. "You can't go anywhere near Cartman ever again." I said.

He let out a long huff of breath. "Yeah… I know." He said. "I heard… my Dad was ranting about that this morning."

I closed my eyes. "Are you going to?" I asked. It was a stupid question. That was like asking if the sky was blue. Why yes! Yes!

He actually paused thoughtfully at that. And his answer surprised me. "You know what Kenny?" He replied. "I learnt something today."

I actually cracked a smile at the familiar words.

"I learnt that my life matters more to me than anything else in the world."

I let out a snort of laughter. I couldn't help myself. He managed to fill his voice with such child-like wonder...

He wasn't done yet either. "And I learnt that yeah, some asshole that used to be your friend may be fucking your best friend… but that's okay. Because there are other things you can do instead of getting yourself killed or ass-raped in prison for the rest of your life." He paused dramatically for effect. "Like _talking_ about it." He said it with such dry wit that I was killing myself with laughter. "Or taking your best buddy to counseling. Or taking yourself to anger management courses. Or any number of things I could have done but didn't…" He had to pause so I could regain control of myself.

The dry drawl continued with the same pensive air as before. "Or even taking the drastic measure of having sex with your best friend, just to convince him that you care for him _deeply_. Even though it means that your mother will continue to think you're a… how did Pip used to put it? Oh yes. A poofter."

That was the end. I was a giggling heap of goo upon the carpet. I finally managed to come up for air about three minutes later.

"Stan?" I gasped into the phone. "I love you man."

"Love the pain killers they have me on." He replied sincerely.

"Or those." I replied with a giggle. I sighed and sobered up. "Are you going to be okay?" I asked once enough time had passed.

He was quiet for a moment. Then: "I think so." He paused again. "… I'll be even _better_ if Kyle recovers completely."

I felt sad again. "He will, Stan. He will."

There was a long pause. "He has to!" Stan exclaimed suddenly. "He still owes me the Terrence and Phillip season 3 collectors edition from when I beat his poofteriffic _ass _at Backgammon last spring! The _bastard_!"

"Oh God!" I was going to start giggling again. "All right, I'll talk to you later okay?"

"Later Dude!" He replied cheerily. "Oh… and Kenny?" He said before I could hang up.

"Mmm?"

He was quiet for a bit before he spoke again. "Thanks for being there for me last night." He said.

My brow crinkled with confusion. "No problem?" I replied. It wasn't like I was going to leave him there for dead. Even if Kyle hadn't tossed his cell phone at me, I would have ran home and called 911 from there. My friends can't die… I won't let them.

"I owe you one." He continued. "Thanks man."

"Sure thing." I replied.

I turned off the phone with a click and sat on my bed. I stared at the March playmate. Shelley once said that her tits looked fake. I frowned. Were they?

I decided I was too tired to care. A quick glance at my alarm clock told me it was 4:45 PM. I sighed and flopped back on the bed to stare at my cracked ceiling.

Almost exactly 24 hours since Butters had shown up at my house to tell me about the fight. Nearly 24 hours since everything had gone to hell. I _felt_ like I had gone to hell and back again. Actually, dying a couple times was preferable to having your friend group disintegrate so completely. I sighed again and rubbed at an eye tiredly. It was officially over wasn't it? Cartman had a restraining order against Stan. Kyle wasn't going to see the outside of a hospital for a while… if ever.

You know, since elementary it hadn't been the four of us anymore… I occasionally hung out with Craig and Clyde and them, Stan sometimes spent time with Token, or whoever was on whichever team he was playing for presently. Kyle was nice to everyone but he was more of a loner than anything. The only person he really ever did spend time with was Stan.

Even so in my mind the image of the original four of us had stayed with me. I was one of the original four friends and we weren't ever going to be together again.

It kinda made me sad. But then it also made me happy at the same time. Because after last night? I was going to spend a lot more time with sweet innocent straight as an arrow, pleasant and true _Butters_. Yes… I needed some Butters in my life. Lots and LOTS of Butters in my life. Oh Butters… please stall that murderous rampage for a few more months, 'kay? Kenneth McCormick is in need of a friend who isn't crazy _or_ homicidal…

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(I usually don't leave Author's Notes at the bottom of fics, but I'm curious… now that I've written it, has anyone encountered any Kenny/Shelley out there they can tell me about? I think that pairing may be interesting to read. In fact if no one knows of any, I might just have to write it!)


	7. Pretending

**Author's Notes**: Uhhh… Cartman/Wendy in this chapter… which was really really unexpected. (is still in shock even though she's the one who wrote it)

On that note, WARNINGS for disturbing imagery and for a heterosexual sex scene in this chapter. If het. sex makes you feel uncomfortable stop reading around when Cartman kisses Wendy 'cause it goes downhill from there. NOT a rape. (Which is amazing…)

I STILL INTEND THIS TO BE A CARTMAN/KYLE. Eventually.

I hope that Eric's slowly changing personality in this fic is at least somewhat believable. Yeah, I know I give him more of a conscience than the series does. Eh… anyway. Hope it works for you all.

There is also some Stan/Kyle in this chapter.

**Point of Interest**: Heidi Turner, Butters' girlfriend, is the girl whose slumber party he went to, as a girl, in grade 4. :)

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Chapter 7

_Cartman's point of view_ –

When I was in grade three I used to play lets pretend, where I tried to convince myself that certain things about my life weren't true. Let's pretend that I am cool and popular and not fat and friendless. Let's pretend that the people you hang out with actually like you and want to spend time with you. Let's pretend that Stan looks up to you and is your best friend.

I found out I really sucked at playing lets pretend. Especially when the truth was staring me in the face.

In grade four I discovered that I had skills that not very many people had. The annoying thing was that Kyle had many of those skills as well.

I could verbally maneuver my way out of any situation. So could Kyle. I discovered that I really was smart in a lot of ways. So, incidentally, was Kyle, except frustratingly enough, Kyle was ALSO smart in the ways I wasn't.

The difference between Kyle and I was that I perfected the art of manipulation, whereas Kyle only turned on his charm when he wanted to; when it would benefit someone else, usually. I only cared about myself.

I think that was the first time I ever tried to get rid of him. He was the darkness to my self-centered light. He made me seem like a bad person. In my perfect world Kyle wouldn't exist.

So yeah. I didn't end up killing him though, and I ended up grateful for it. Because then something happened that made me realize I didn't really want him gone.

That something ended up being that his parents moved him to San Francisco for about a month. During that month I realized my life was pretty boring without Kyle around to pick on. Maybe if I were more mature I would have realized I missed him because I liked him. At the time I thought that I just liked to fuck with him because it was easy to get a reaction out of him.

Maybe I did perfect the art of playing lets pretend after all.

Strange how tables turn on you. That night I had intended to kill Stan. In self defense of course. I thought it was him following me through the streets. I hadn't gotten a good look at the person, just a vague human outline behind me. I was panicked… I wasn't thinking clearly.

In my own defense, (and the defense I gave the police) was that I didn't shoot at anything until I was cornered. At that time I just wanted to take out the other person so I could go home.

I knew I was going to have a hard time fixing things when I pulled the trigger. I wasn't concerned with the fact that I was just about to kill someone I've been friends with for several years… I don't think about stuff like that. No, I was wondering where I was going to hide the body. Or if I was going to the cops and claim self defense and make someone else clean up the mess.

Essentially the person approaching me in the dark wasn't a person, he was something that directly threatened my wellbeing and needed to be eliminated. He still wasn't a person, up until the moment the bullets met flesh and he cried out in a hauntingly familiar voice. Then he was a person.

I ran towards him and I caught him in mid-stumble. I dragged him underneath a light so I could see him. His teeth were clenched… he was in severe pain. I fumbled loose his jacket, trying to see how bad the wound was and reassure him at the same time.

At the same time the panic I felt was rather unfamiliar, because I wasn't scared for myself. I was scared for him. I didn't want him to die. I was really really worried I had just killed him.

Which went along with the entire having just discovered that I liked him thing. I hadn't wanted him to get hurt of course. He had started screaming, and I tried to get him to calm down. It's pretty impossible to calm down someone who's fatally wounded and he would have none of it, trying to push me away from himself. He shouted at me some more, but it was when he started sobbing I felt my guts tie themselves into knots.

I realized then I never wanted to do anything to hurt him ever again. Which is all fine and good to decide… the moment after you shoot someone.

The sound of an ambulance interrupted his tirade about me being a bastard and so on. "You've got to take me to the ambulance, Cartman," He gasped brokenly, peering up at me desperately. "If you don't I'm going to die, I… can't…" He had trailed off, his eyes glazing over.

Oh my God, I remember thinking to myself. The entire night had turned into a nightmare, ending in the worse possible scenario…

I thought he was dead. I almost left him there to bleed out in a snow bank. It was only the vague itching thought at the back of my mind that if there was even the REMOTEST chance Kyle could make it through this… wouldn't I want to take it?

I proceeded to have one of the worst nights of my life. Trust me, cleaning up the damages from almost killing two people is not fun. I had to go donate blood for Kyle because the stupid Jew just had to have a different blood type than everyone else in Colorado. I also had to take care of Kenny, who wasn't coping very well. I almost killed him too, but out of frustration more than anything. And I like Kenny.

I didn't sleep at all… I spent all night in the police station filling out statements. By morning, when I made Kenny testify for me, I just wanted it all to be over so I could go back home and fucking sleep.

After that night I reverted back to my thinking in grade 4. I began to think that maybe it would be best if Kyle didn't exist anymore. I knew he wouldn't be very interesting to me when he recovered. For one I couldn't go near him without causing problems with anyone who was friends with him, save for maybe Kenny… if Kenny still considered me to be a friend that is.

Secondly I had destroyed Kyle's body and probably broken his will enough that killing him might be considered merciful. THOUGH I couldn't take the credit for all of Kyle's mental brokenness. 6 months of being picked on by other people at school, AND getting violently raped and nearly killed did a lot more damage than I did. At least I firmly believed that was true. At least I didn't hurt him, just a nice gentle mindfuck, that's all…

I also considered trying to kill Stan off for good. Mostly because I was honestly afraid of the guy, and again, anything that threatens my well being I try to eliminate. But offing Stan hit the same dilemma as the Kyle situation. I couldn't explain away Stan's death or disappearance any better than I could Kyle's, and everyone was hyper focused on me right then. Basically if Stan or Kyle suddenly went missing I would be the one accused of it. Some random psycho could really fuck me over right then if they wanted to.

I hate being vulnerable.

Vulnerability or no, I DID actively contemplate killing Kyle… for an entire day. It was the second day after Kyle was admitted to the hospital. He hadn't woken up yet, but the reports had come back via Kenny (who _was_ still talking to me) that the doctors thought that maybe a wayward piece of shrapnel had hit his spinal cord. They thought he might be paralyzed when he woke up. If he was paralyzed, I devised a plan to sneak into the hospital and poison him like they did the lady in the Omen movie. I figured a world with no Kyle was better than a world with Kyle a quadriplegic in a wheel chair for the rest of his life.

That and the fact that I didn't want to see him in a wheel chair and be constantly reminded of what I had done.

Kyle wasn't going to die until he woke up and demonstrated that he couldn't move. I needed to know how badly he was damaged first. So Kyle's death was put on hold while I waited for the verdict.

I didn't have to wait very long. He woke up on the morning of the third day. Kenny told me on his way back from the hospital, excitement glowing in his eyes and laughing grin on his face. Kyle was going to be okay; he was responding to questions and could move one of his arms and both of his legs, however feebly.

I locked myself in my bedroom that day and refused to come out. I didn't feel like talking to anyone. I didn't know whether to be angry or sad or relieved and happy. So I decided not to associate with anyone as I worked myself out by surfing the 'net and visiting hate websites.

I wasn't going to go check on him. But after 5 days since shooting him I had had enough and couldn't take waiting anymore to see him. I called the hospital at 3 AM and asked if Kyle had any visitors right then. The irritated nurse said he wasn't allowed to have visitors at 3 AM because he was recovering from being shot.

I told her I knew he had been shot, because I had been the one that shoot him. Then I hung up on her.

I stole mom's van (I've been stealing it for short errands since I was young anyway, so that wasn't new) and drove to the hospital alone. When there I made my cautious way down the hallways, looking for the room with him in it. He wasn't in the larger room with the big glass window, so I guessed that they moved him to a quieter private room while he was recovering.

I found that room within a couple of tries, Hell's Pass hospital isn't very big. I crept into the room. It was dark, but the dimmed lights gave me and any nurse wandering by enough light to see him by.

He looked extraordinarily pale and thin on that bed. His cheeks, which only a week ago had been full looked gaunt and there where black circles around his eyes. The red mopped disaster on his head was tangled and seemed longer than it used to be, lying matted over his ear and cheek.

The blankets on his chest rose and fell as he breathed. I approached the bed cautiously. He stirred ever so slightly, brow furrowing and muttering something as he turned his head to the other side.

I touched the blankets, tracing the line of the UV out from under the covers to the stand. Curiosity got the best of me and I drew the blankets back to see his shoulder. Unfortunately it looked like I wasn't going to be able to see his injury as I discovered that his shoulder and most of his upper body was covered in several layers of gauze.

I frowned. I wanted to see the wound!

I contemplated my dilemma for a bit and decided on a course of action. I snuck back out of the room and found a nurses' desk that was presently unoccupied. Sure enough she had a large sharp looking pair of scissors in one of her drawers. I swiped them and trekked back to Kyle's room. Once there I pulled the covers back from his chest again and set about trying to figure out how I should cut off the gauze without hurting him so that I could see the injury.

I hadn't even made the first cut yet when he woke up. I knew he was awake because he arched up against me, almost embedding the scissors into his many layered shoulder.

"Oh God… don't!" He struggled against me weakly. It was nice to hear his voice again. I turned my head and looked at him.

"Kyle?" I asked.

His eyes looked almost black and pupiless as they stared up at me. "Cartman," He whispered fearfully. His still working hand came up to try to weakly push my hand away from the gauze. "Don't kill me..." he whispered.

I stared at him, utterly dumbfounded. "I'm not here to kill you asshole!" I whispered furiously. I put down the scissors on the side trey table and smoothed the gauze back down over his shoulder. "God."

He just stared at me, and ever so slowly got his breathing under control. Bitterness flashed in his eyes. "Why are you here?" He asked, speaking much more clearly now.

"No reason." I replied nonchalantly.

"Bullshit Cartman." He sounded angry. "You came gloat, didn't you?"

I snorted and slumped in the chair next to his bed. "Yeah, whatever." I replied. For some reason him thinking I was here to rub in the fact that I nearly killed him made me incredibly angry. I suppose he was right in one way… a couple years ago I would have gloated over the fact that he was helpless.

He watched me out of half lidded tired eyes as I sat and pretended not to be interested in him at all. When he continued to look at me, I glowered back at him. He closed his eyes finally and I won the stare down.

"Go away, Cartman." He said with a groan. He opened his eyes just enough to make eye contact with me again. "Just leave me alone."

Fucker. I glared at him some more until he winced and shut his eyes again. "Cartman, _please_. I've been shot. I'm in pain. I can't _deal_ with you right now." He turned his head away from me.

God damn it. I got up abruptly and considered his prone form for a moment or to.

His eyes popped open again when I climbed up onto the bed next to him. I placed my hand against his cheek.

"Don't!" He shouted, except his voice wasn't working properly and the sound was only a little bit above a whisper. I noticed his good hand was grasping for something that lay along the side of the bed. It was a remote attached to a power cable with a button on it. Probably a nurse call button. I didn't even move my hand from the side of his face as I picked it up and moved it out of his reach with the other.

That made him panic even more. Meanwhile I just held my hand there. I didn't press down, but he was pinned… he didn't have enough strength to push me off of him. He lay there like a wounded animal, and sucked noisy and scared gasps of air into his lungs. It actually gave me quite a heady feeling of power… until I realized I was intimidating an invalid.

"Cartman… please…" He whispered brokenly into the sheets. "Let me go…"

There is something incredibly fucking arousing about having Kyle beg me for anything. I stifled a groan and did what he asked.

"Wow Kyle," I smirked. "Don't get me wrong, it's nice to have you beg and stuff, but you're really pathetic." I sat back and waited for his reaction.

It took him a couple seconds to recover, but finally he blinked and turned his head to glare at me. Anger flashed in his eyes. "I can't fucking **_move_**, asshole!" He seethed.

I smiled. "Oh really?" I replied. I leaned down towards him and had the pleasure of seeing his eyes widen as he realized his mistake at admitting a weakness.

"Oh God," He breathed, trying to inch away on the bed. I acted on impulse, feeding off the raw terror on his face. As I got closer he tried to push me away with his one arm. I merely looped an arm around his back and swung a leg over his torso to pin him. I felt his legs try to kick me off of him, but the movements beneath me were really weak. He was probably right about not being able to move very much.

"Stop!" He was beginning to panic again as I grasped his chin and turned his head towards me. It was too much for him to handle. "Please…" He begged pitifully. "Cartman, _stop_…!" I ignored him and placed a kiss against his lips. He was trembling, whether from exertion or pain, I didn't know. He also smelt like sickness, but that may have been because of the hospital. He let out a choked sob, which was a small explosion beneath my lips.

I pulled away a little bit, a bit disquieted that he was breaking down so badly. He was usually much stronger than this… upset, I pressed my lips to his again. I had kissed him before without having him freak out. I couldn't comprehend why he was so upset right now…

"Cartman, _please_. Not here," He whispered, trying to turn his head aside. I pulled away from him at that.

I stared down into his face. His eyes were closed and tears were leaking from them. I felt like shit. Good to know I could still feel, I suppose…

"Stop that." I ordered. I grabbed his upper arms and shook him before realizing how much that must hurt him and let him go abruptly. Sure enough his eyes reopened and he gasped in pain as he slumped on the sheets, good arm cradling his injured side. A fresh wave of tears rolled down his cheeks as his breathing hitched over and over again. For a couple moments all I could do was watch as he squirmed in agony.

"I'm not going to fuck you in a hospital." I added stupidly, almost as an afterthought as I watched him calm down by degrees. I should have apologized for hurting him again, but I couldn't.

He finally stopped doing the breath hitching thing and turned his gaze on me. His eyes searched mine. I had no idea what he was looking for.

I fought with myself for a moment then finally reached out. He continued to look at me silently as I ran my hand though his tangled hair and brought my hand down his cheek, tracing the moisture there. "You're such a pussy." I said.

He sighed softly, sounding slightly exasperated. "Cartman…" He began.

I violated his personal space one last time by leaning forwards and kissing him hard. He didn't react this time, just lay there and took it. I pulled away just as fast.

He blinked up at me, the expression on his face no longer fearful, but a bit curious.

"I hate you." I told him abruptly as I climbed down from his bed. I made for the door.

I thought that would be the end, but his weary voice followed me. "Why?"

I made a face and shut my eyes. I had no reply... partly because I didn't hate him, not in the least.

"Eric…" He whispered.

I gripped the door frame so hard my knuckles turned white. I decided abruptly that I couldn't deal with him anymore. I shook my head and left the room.

I decided that it would probably be best that I didn't go back to the hospital after that.

Again with the let's pretend… lets pretend I'm not ashamed of what I've done, shall we? And let's pretend we don't fantasize about his angry eyes and pouty lips when we jerk off at night.

After that night I realized I was in danger of becoming obsessed. I decided not to give into my cravings. Visiting him would just cause problems and I may have ended up really doing something to him in a hospital. Which was gross, as hospitals smell like ass.

I even tried to stop thinking about him at all.

Instead I decided to go back to school and continue my classes and try to be as normal as possible.

Things were really awkward when Stan came back to school a week later. I decided, wisely, to sit at the table with the rest of the football team and be ignored all lunch hour than to go anywhere near Stan. As it was he gave me the evil eye whenever he saw me. I was quite glad I had a restraining order on him.

If he did try to attack me, I'm afraid I would have had to kill him. Which would just give Kyle another reason to hate me.

Christmas came and went. I invited Kenny over to my house for dinner, but he politely refused. He had promised to go to Kyle's house to welcome him home from the hospital. He didn't say that he was going to Kyle's. Butter's did, when I finally asked the small blond if he wanted to come over to my house for dinner, just so that I could have someone to torment. Butters has never been very good at being socially tactful, and I guessed then that everyone in my circle of acquaintances would be at Kyle's for Christmas.

Except for me.

So I decided to spend all of Christmas locked in my room. That got nixed when Mom announced that we were going over to my Uncle's house for Christmas.

I didn't want to go, but I really don't have a choice in these matters. My relatives wanted to see me, whether I liked it or not.

I got home from Christmas day absolutely drained and in a dark enough mood that I could have hurt something given very little provocation. That dark mood lasted all of 5 minutes. I discovered a card in the mail box for me and when I opened it, I saw it was from Kenny. The poor bastard didn't have money to buy a Christmas card, so he drew one himself on paper he had stolen from the art room. The front of the card was a picture of me and him hanging out and making a snow man together. On the inside there was another picture of us sitting and watching porno together with the speech bubbles above our heads saying stuff like "Sweet!" and "Oh, awesome!" Underneath the label on one of the porno tapes read "Merry Christmas Eric. Love from your friend Kenny."

I was touched that the poor piece of shit took the time to make me a card. I went to my room and put the card on my dresser where I could see it when I woke up everyday.

Kyle came back to school in January, which made all my traitorous feeling and lustful thoughts come flooding back to me. My first reaction seeing his green hat making its way down the hallway was to freeze in a spot.

God… and I was getting so good at NOT fantasizing about him…

His right arm was still caught up in a sling, but it was him, with his laughing easy smile and reddish brown curls. He looked a little tired, the shadows still evident under his eyes, but other that that he seemed okay.

I watched him discretely in class and discovered that he had to write with his left hand. He didn't seem to mind, he appeared to be as adept at writing with his left as he was writing with his right. Fucking Jew was always good at everything he tried.

I didn't go near him. I had very valid reasons for not approaching him. First deterrent was the fact that Stan fucking _hovered_ over Kyle like a worried mother hen. There were a couple classes where I was in the class with Kyle and Stan was in a different class. I could have approached him then, but I hesitated.

I almost approached him one day after class a couple weeks after classes started in January… it always took him longer to get his books back into his bag with his right arm in a sling. I stood, with my bag over one shoulder, as the rest of class trailed out of the room.

He hoisted his bag to his non-injured shoulder, wincing slightly as he did so. I suppose upper body movement still hurt him. It had been only a month…

Right before he turned to leave his eyes caught mine. I just stood there, like a dumbass, not knowing what to say or do. Hey dude, sorry I almost killed you, then tried to molest you while you were in the hospital, no hard feeling right?

He broke the gaze first with a frown and a slight shake of his head. With that he turned and left the room.

It didn't take me very long to get sick of being ignored by the football team and decide that I needed a new place to sit. I considered sitting next to Kenny… the only person who would still talk to me, but he always sat next to Stan and Kyle. Even Butters, along with that Turner girl he was fucking, had decided to start sitting with Stan and Kyle, so that was out.

If I sat with Token, Clyde, Craig, Jimmy and them I'd be teased for having no friends. I know because I've tried to sit with them before.

I considered. All that left was… the _girl_ table.

Basically all the girls who occasionally hung out with all the guys I hang out with sit at one table. There's Wendy and Bebe of course, but also Millie, Annie, Kelly, the other Kelly, Marcie, and what'sherfuck. That girl whose name I can't remember.

Hmmm. I considered. Infiltrating the girl group would take some work. First of all anything I did or said like I usually did when around girls, like calling them derogatory names would have to be stopped. That would just get me kicked out of the group and ignored and trust me, I was tired of being ignored. I would have to listen and learn to figure out what they liked and talked about enough to carry out a somewhat believable conversation with girls.

The first day trying to sit with the girls went off somewhat okay. I went over and said hi to the end girl… a Kelly, and asked if I could sit down. Kelly looked at the rest of the girls at the table. Annie and whatsherfuck shrugged. Finally Kelly looked back and nodded.

I sat. I asked what was going on, and the girls all looked somewhat uncomfortable. "Nothing much." One of them replied.

The rest of the lunch hour passed in relative silence… with occasional private conversations breaking out quietly between a couple of the girls. They didn't feel comfortable with me there yet to have a full out conversation. Which was fine. They'd get used to me eventually.

I thought the lunch hour thing went off fairly successfully… I was wrong. Bebe caught me after English class that day. She asked if she could talk to me. I said sure and she proceeded to drag me off the library. I wondered what we were doing in the library when she took me to a vacant private corner with a study group table in the center of it.

We were being private, that's what we were doing in the library.

"Okay," Bebe rounded on me. "Exactly what do you think you're doing Eric?" She asked.

I didn't have to pretend to be taken aback. "What are you talking about Bebe?" I retorted.

She pointed a finger right in my face, which was fucking annoying. "You. You pretending to be nice to everyone. You sitting with us at lunch. What the hell Eric, you're a stuck-up chauvinistic asshole, and you expect you can just sit with us?"

I shrugged. "Maybe I just want to make friends Bebe, ever consider that?"

She let out a little snort of laughter. "I know for a fact that you're not sitting with your friends because they hate you. And you almost killed Kyle. Well you can't sit with us either!" She turned to go.

Bitch, I thought. "Bebe! Wait!" I called after her.

She stopped and turned slightly. "Yeah?" She said, contempt in her voice.

I gulped and pretended to shakily sit down on a chair at the table. "Please. Bebe… just… give me a chance to explain… please?"

She hesitated. I heard her swear softly under her breath as she turned back to me.

"Fine Eric." She said grumpily as she sat down on a chair opposite of me. "You got 30 seconds."

I looked at her, putting on my best pleading puppy dog look. "I didn't mean to shoot him." I said quietly. "I never meant to ever hurt him."

She raised an eyebrow. "Riiight." She said.

"I've been sleeping with him since the beginning of November." I continued. By the surprised look on her face, I took it she didn't know we had been fucking. "Why would I shoot him all of a sudden for no apparent reason?"

Her mouth hung open. "You were sleeping with…?" She started incredulously.

"Yeah."

"You… and _Kyle_?" The open mouthed disbelief didn't change any.

"Yes." I replied, starting to get irritated. "Christ Bebe. Can I continue?"

"But you hate each other!" She exploded.

"So?" I replied without thinking. I mentally slapped myself. "I mean we don't hate each other anymore… obviously."

She looked pensive. "I guess… you two were sitting next to each other last semester…"

"Anyway." I cut her off. "Stan found out. He was angry and he attacked me… at lunch."

Bebe nodded. "I remember that."

I sighed heavily. "Later that night Kyle and I were out for a walk and we ran into Stan. He attacked me again. I didn't know what to do… so I defended myself. I had to Bebe! He would have killed me!" I was laying on the pathos pretty thickly now… luckily a glance at Bebe told me she was listening intently. Perfect.

I got up from the chair and began to pace. "After that all I wanted to do was go home. But Stan ran after me. As I was running to get away I saw a gun on the side of the road." I shook my head dramatically. "I know I should have just left it there Bebe. I should have. I realize my mistake now."

I looked up at her, putting on my best shamed expression. "But I didn't. I picked it up. I was panicked and I was scared and all I wanted was to get out of there alive and _go home_." I sucked a shaky breath between my teeth, pretending to be shook up at this retelling.

Bebe was staring at me with wide eyes, completely engrossed in my story.

"I didn't know it was Kyle behind me Bebe… it was dark and I couldn't see. I just turned around and…" I gulped. "And I - I pulled the trigger and I - he…" I collapsed back into the chair, my head in my hands. "Oh god Bebe…" I sobbed.

It worked like a charm. She was beside me instantly, her arm around my back, hugging me. "Shh… it's okay." She soothed.

I just continued to cry crocodile tears. And she continued to reassure me that it was okay.

"Bebe?" I asked once I got my fake tears under control.

"Yes Eric?" She replied, concerned.

I sniffled and pulled away from her. "Just… don't tell anyone, okay?"

She hesitated. "What, about you and Kyle?" She asked.

I nodded. "I'm not gay." I said. "Kyle… I don't know what that was…"

She laughed. "It's okay!" She said. "I'm attracted to girls too, so I understand…"

I had to **_literally_** bite my tongue from calling her a fucking dyke. "Thanks Bebe," I said in a falsely grateful voice. "I really really appreciate it."

Sure enough stuff got around real fast. The next day I asked to sit next to Kelly and she instantly scooted over on the bench. I noticed all the girls were looking at me with somewhat sympathetic looks on their faces. Score one for bitches talking too much when you ask them not to…

Manipulating girls isn't necessarily the easiest thing in the world to do… it takes dedication. Same goes for integrating myself into the friend group. First of all they had to get adjusted to my presence to accept me as their own. That was easy… within a couple lunch hours I was on their level… Bebe certainly helped by telling them all I was gay with Kyle.

Then I had to make myself appealing. Not weighing 300 pounds helped… though I wasn't kidding myself… I was still overweight. So appearance was a strike against me… none of them were going to look at me and think I was really hot or anything like that. Which was probably okay, because right now I was trying to befriend them, not fuck them. Yet.

Still the list of things I could and could not do was extreme. I couldn't make fun of other girls with them, because the moment I started to they would turn against me. As a dude I was the ultimate outsider. I couldn't talk about the things they usually talked about like make up and other guys, because that would make me seem even more faggy.

I found the perfect subject to gain acceptance on a few days after my little experiment started. Annie was upset because she had been on her period one gym class… the gym teacher wouldn't let her sit out the class and she had been in pain. I didn't even know girls were in pain during their periods, but the sympathetic noises all the girls were making indicated to me that this was common.

So I spoke up and said how wrong I felt that was that the gym teacher wouldn't let Annie take a break when she was in pain.

Suddenly I had half a dozen girls looking at me with respect shining in their eyes. I shrugged and went back to eating my sandwich.

Inside I was gloating.

There was one last key that remained unlocked for much of spring. Wendy.

Wendy wasn't like the other girls… she knew me very well. And she wasn't buying it. I saw her often give me dirty looks or, even worse, assessing looks from across the table. Sometimes she would lean over and whisper things to Bebe.

I frustrated her because I just kept on being nice and friendly to her. Just like I had to Kyle in the fall.

At the same time I kept a very discrete eye on Kyle, though I really didn't need to. Bebe had interpreted my pretend breakdown in the library as wanting to get back together with Kyle. She had the very romanticized idea that Kyle and I were soul mates separated by circumstance despite whatever Wendy was telling her. Which was awesome.

It was the beginning of March when she found me in the hallway at school, all smiles and giggles. "Did you see?" She asked me, leaning towards me conspiringly.

"What?" I replied, trying not to seem obvious as I leaned away from her.

She grinned. "Kyle! His sling is gone!"

Sure enough it was. I walked by Kyle later that morning on the way to class. I saw that he was using his formerly useless right arm to gesture with as he talked to Stan.

I was happy for him. I suppose. Actually, once again, I was unsure of how I should feel about it. I decided to ignore it and ignore him, as I had for all of spring semester so far.

Thanks to the girls I got to find out when Stan attempted to go out with Kyle near the end of March. One of the girls brought it up during lunch hour. She was instantly elbowed into silence, but the damage had been done. I had heard.

They all stared at me, waiting for my reaction.

My reaction was somewhere between laughing while still on my chair and laughing while on the floor.

When I finished wiping tears of joy from my eyes I realized all the girls looked either worried or annoyed so I decided I had to change my tactic. "Sorry, sorry!" I apologized, holding up my hands in defense as I continued to chuckle to myself.

"Why is that funny?" Annie asked.

I shook my head, still unable to keep the smile off my face. It was funny for a lot of reasons… namely that extremely jealous boyfriend Stan was probably going out with Kyle to prevent anyone else from going out with him. Like me for example. But I couldn't say that to the girls. I considered. "It's funny because Stan isn't gay." I said finally. Because it was true for the most part. Ever since Stan hit puberty a couple years ago, it was always this girl or that girl and angst over why he wasn't getting laid. And jerking off like 16 times a night because of it. The entire SCHOOL knew Stan's angst over girls. Ever since he used to throw up on girls it's been public interest.

"How do you know he's not gay?" Millie piped up. The girls around her were nodding in agreement.

I shook my head again. "Millie… he's Stan. Think about it. STAN."

She thought about it. "Oh," She said. She sounded uncertain.

"Look," I said, looking around the table at the rest of the girls. "I may be wrong on this. I've been wrong before," I spread my arms wide to show my sincerity. Humility is attractive sometimes. "BUT I've been hanging around Stan since pre-school. He's not gay." I made a hand motion to his lunch table where Kyle and him sat side by side as usual. "But I'll let you in on a secret…" I lowered my voice secretively. The girls all leaned in to hear. "If he were gay, that's the boy he'd be with." I winked at Wendy for the hell of it, which ended up just making her look annoyed.

They all nodded like they already knew this secret and leaned back again.

"Well they _are _best friends," a Kelly said, like this was old hat.

I leaned back again, sighing and stretching. "We'll see," I said after a while. "Anyone wanna bet how long it'll last? I'll give it two weeks."

"I'll give it three." Millie said.

"Two days," Annie said.

"Two days?" the other Kelly replied. The brunette snorted with laughter. "I give it two hours."

Everyone laughed at that. Then the subject was done and the girls went back to talking about inane things like make up, music groups and boys.

Somehow the lunch time conversation changed Wendy. Despite looking annoyed when I winked at her she was quiet the rest of the day… and she didn't make any comments at Bebe. She even smiled at me and was polite after lunch, which was a miracle and a half.

It was a couple days later when she found me at my locker right after classes had let out for the day. "Eric?" She asked. "Can I talk to you for a second?" She asked.

I recovered quickly from being shocked at the fact that WENDY had approached me. "Yeah sure Wendy. What's up?" I replied, trying to sound nonchalant as I shut my locker door and locked it. My heart had sped up a bit with just her being near me. I had forgotten that Wendy made me react like this…

We started walking down the halls towards the back of the school where her locker was.

She sighed, her brow wrinkling as she tried to figure out where to start. "It's about Stan." She said. "And what you said at lunch the other day."

"That he's not a fag, except that he is?" I replied with a little sneer.

She gave me a sidelong glance, then nodded. "I know things about Stan. Once I told him that… uh, a friend of mine was bisexual and he got really uncomfortable. He says he's fine with it, but he just SAYS that because he has to. You know?"

I nodded. Stan a homophobe? Yeah… I could believe that. Obviously.

We came to her locker and she set about opening it. "It's just that…" She sighed. "I saw them together yesterday, Eric."

I raised an eyebrow. "You did?" I replied a little bit surprised. I had been watching the two of them since the day at lunch two days ago… they hadn't done anything to show they were even interested in each other. If anything it appeared they were sitting further apart than usual.

Wendy nodded as her locker swung open. I made a face at the numerous posters she had on the inside of her locker door… for everything from PETA to the Democratic Underground website. Fucking hippie.

"They were holding hands and stuff." She picked up a couple books and turned and looked at me with her big brown eyes. "I don't think I quite believed until I saw them together… that what people were saying was true." She frowned, looking a bit distraught, and then sighed again. "It's just that… I know Kyle. And he's been through a lot of crap…"

I wondered why she was talking to me about this. I was partly responsible for Kyle's crap after all.

Strangely enough I didn't have to think about that very long because Wendy stopped abruptly and set about putting her books in her backpack.

I turned around to see what had caused her to stop talking, to see Kyle walking towards us quickly. I raised an eyebrow. Speak of the devil…

Kyle stopped in front of us. I actually took a step backwards. This was the closest I had been to him for a little over 3 months, it was surprising.

"Hey Wendy… have you seen Stan?" He asked a bit earnestly when Wendy looked up.

I couldn't help it. I spoke without thinking. "No we _haven't_ seen your little faggot boyfriend Kyle!" I said.

Mentally I hit myself. God! What was I thinking? Wendy's head snapped around and she glared at me.

Kyle turned on me, his eyes flashing with anger. "Shut the fuck UP fatass!" He snapped. And then he lunged at me.

Wendy looked shocked. "Kyle?" She asked. At the same time I was pretty shocked myself and didn't even block as Kyle's left hook caught me in the jaw.

"What the fuck!" I said, staring at him.

"Stan isn't gay, asshole!" He shouted at me, swinging at me again.

Oh… this was irony. Wendy had to see the irony in this somewhere…

"Unlike you!" He continued, landing a couple blows on my chest.

"Fuck you!" I shouted at him. He continued to hit me and I blocked… it wasn't too hard as his right arm wasn't landing punches hard enough to sting, let alone bruise.

I couldn't attack him back. Partly because I was afraid of hurting him again, partly because if I DID, my life would be forfeit the moment StanMommy found out. I looked desperately at Wendy, to see she was staring at the two of us with wide eyes, her mouth slightly open. She wasn't the only one as a few people in the halls had stopped to stare.

"I hate you!" Kyle continued. "You stupid fucking racist son of a bitch!" His eyes were scarier than I had ever seen them. He looked crazy. And beautiful, though that really didn't matter right then…

"Kyle!" I tried to grab his hands to stop him from hitting me. "Kyle stop it!" His left fist collided against my jaw again with a resounding crack. I stumbled to the side, tasting blood in my mouth.

"_Shit_!" I swore.

He tried to punch me again but this time I succeeded in catching his fist. He tried to punch me with the weak hand and I caught that one as well. "Kyle STOP!" I snapped as he kicked me, obviously aiming for my groin. "I'm not going to fucking fight you already!"

"Too bad!" He shouted, trying to struggle free so that he could continue to attack me.

I suppose it was inevitable that his boyfriend show up.  
I heard Wendy's exclaimed "Stan!" a second before he spoke.

"CARTMAN! Let him go!"

"FUCK." I swore. At the same time Kyle went limp, staring in the direction of Stan's voice. I let his hands go, just in time to see a very angry Stan coming at me at about 100 miles an hour.

"Oh God damn it." I muttered as Stan pulled Kyle behind himself and picked me up by my collar, smashing me up against the lockers. Fucking great. I winced as a lock dug into the small of my back.

"Give me one good reason why I shouldn't kill you," He breathed, his blue eyes flashing dangerously.

"Fuck off Stan! I didn't touch your faggy little boyfriend!" I snapped back at him.

Stan's punch caught me in my already aching jaw. He dropped me at the same time and I fell on my ass.

"He attacked _me _god damn it!" I yelled at him from my vantage point on the floor. Stan stood above me with his fists raised. I raised my arm defensively, cursing my luck. This time I didn't have a knife on me or anything!

The bitch had finally decided to come to my rescue. "Stan! He's telling the truth!" Wendy said, pulling back on his arm. "Leave him alone!"

Stan glanced at her for a second. He frowned, and then turned his head to look at Kyle. Kyle was panting with exertion, his head slightly bowed.

"You okay?" He asked, relaxing a little bit.

Kyle looked at me for a second, than looked back at Stan. He nodded slightly. "I- I… yeah." He nodded again.

Stan stepped away from me and I scrambled back to my feet, straightening my shirt and glaring. "Jesus Christ." I muttered. "Fucking psycho."

"Shove it Cartman, you deserved a thousand times worse than that." Stan said as he put a protective arm around Kyle and began to lead him away.

"Fuck you gaywad." I snapped back, stung.

Stan was ignoring me now. He had turned his gaze to Wendy. That look was held much longer than I expected it too be. Something was exchanged there… I'm not sure what it was.

Finally Stan turned away completely, arm and arm with Kyle as they continued down the hall. They spoke to each other in low voices as they went. Soon they turned the corner and disappeared from sight.

The crowd had dispersed the moment it had become obvious no one was going to die, leaving just me and Wendy standing there. She broke the silence first, by exclaiming over my face. "Eric, you're bleeding!" She reached out towards my face, touching my lip ever so slightly. It stung.

I licked my lip and tasted blood. "Son of a bitch." I muttered, wiping my mouth on the back of my hand.

She sighed and picked up her backpack. "Come on." She said, taking me by the arm and leading me down the hall. I blushed despite myself, and then instantly cursed myself for my weakness. I REALLY needed to get over this awkwardness around Wendy. It was stupid, especially since she was a retarded liberal, environmentalist, hippie type and I hated her. God, you'd think I was in grade 4 again or something.

I figured where we were going before she led me into the office.

"Is the nurse in?" She asked the secretary once we got there.

The secretary shook her head. "The nurse has gone home for the day." She said. "But you guys can use the first aid kit in there." She continued, pointing to the sick room.

"Thanks!" Wendy said, flashing her winning smile at her.

"Wendy, I'm fine, seriously…" I had had enough. I tried to wiggle out of the death grip she had on my wrist.

"Bull. We're going to get you cleaned up." She replied. She hauledme into the room and forced me to sit down on the bed. She fished out the first aid kit and the first thing she did was apply a cotton swab wet with alcohol to my lip.

I flinched away. "Fuck! That stings, bitch!" I said, momentarily forgetting that I wasn't going to call girls bitches and hos anymore.

She merely smiled at me. It was a lovely smile and I think I blushed again despite myself. "Don't be a baby, Eric." She said sweetly as she continued to swab at my lip, which didn't sting as much after the first time.

I grunted in reply. I concentrated on her, as her hand came close to my mouth again and again as she continued to work on my face. I had to resist the urge to lick her fingers. God damned stupid hormones…

"There." She said, smiling at me again as she put down the cotton swab. The smile faded ever so slightly when she caught the look on my face. "Eric?" She asked.

Fuck it.

I leaned forwards and kissed her, exchanging the lovely taste of rubbing alcohol I'm sure. The kiss hurt because my lip was bruised but I didn't care.

She could have jerked backwards and ran away. Hell, I half expected her to. But instead she kissed me back, her mouth opening in a soft "Ahh." I reached up and stroked her hair as I deepened the kiss, wrapping my other arm around her upper back…

Suddenly she had climbed up in my lap, arms looping around my neck and legs straddling me as she tried to shove her tongue down my throat. I turned her so that she was lying back on the bed. She started to make little mewling noises as I kissed and licked at her neck, her hands trying to tug at my shirt. I cupped a breast in my hand and she arched against me.

Just as suddenly as she started she stopped, freezing. "We can't!" She gasped.

I tried to convince myself to stop and say something intelligent at the same time. Unfortunately all that would come out was "We can't?"

She shook her head vigorously. "Not in the nurse's room!" She exclaimed.

"Oh." I climbed off of her, still not very articulate. Damn, and for a moment there I thought I was going to get laid… with Wendy. My brain faltered. … What the hell?

She smirked at me, and threaded her hands in mine. "How about your house?" She asked.

I gave her a particularly stunned look. Ohhh… fuck. This wasn't happening, was it?

It was.

Sort of. It would have happened a hell of a lot faster if I hadn't gotten nervous. I was a bit astounded myself. I brought her to a screaming climax with my mouth and hands… but when it came to actually performing… nothing.

She lay next to me in bed, still panting away and looking amazed. "My god," she purred. "That was soooo goooood…"

Yeah, great. I focused on the ceiling and tried to will my organ into co-operating. God damn it, I was hard as a rock just a couple minutes ago… what happened? I had never had problems with this before. EVER.

She didn't catch on until she rolled on top of me and tried to interest me in other things by pressing her body against mine.

"Oh." She said, once she realized. She rolled back off of me again.

"Yeah." I replied. This was awkward.  
She looked confused as she considered. "Did you uh…" She hesitated and blushed. "You know… when you were with Kyle?"

I glanced at her sharply. I forgot she knew about that… and that Bebe told everyone.

I felt irritated at her as she stared up at me with those large empathetic eyes. I narrowed my eyes and looked away, balling the sheets in my fist. "It's probably you, Wendy." I said snidely. "_I've_ never had a problem before…"

I could hear the smile in her voice even though I wasn't looking at her. "Maybe you don't hate me enough." She said brightly.

I looked back at her, stunned, my anger melting away as fast as it had come. Wow… she might have had a point there.

She smiled at me and turned on her back, peering up at the ceiling. "You know, no matter how much you pretend to be nice Eric, I can see you're faking it."

I tensed. "What are you talking about?" I said, restraining myself from calling her a ho at the end of that sentence.

She giggled and turned towards me again. "Come on Eric. It's obvious. You'll never stop being a fat, self-centered depraved psychopath, no matter how hard you work to hide it. These last few months? They've all been an act."

I glared at her, angry again. "I have changed Wendy." I told her icily. I turned towards her and grasped her by the arm, squeezing hard enough to leave bruises. "A year ago you wouldn't be here." I made a hand motion to my room. I decided it was time to indulge a little fantasy I used to have that involved her, since she thought so 'highly' of me. "A year ago I would have tied you to a desk at school and cut your clothes off of you. And after I was done fucking you in the ass as you begged to be let go, I would split you open," I made a hand motion to her torso. "And slowly unraveled your intestines. All while you were still alive." I continued with the hand motions, enjoying as she flinched ever so slightly. "Then leave you there for the rats and the janitor to clean up. And all for calling me fat." I turned on a charming very obviously fake smile and leaned in real close. "But notice…" I whispered darkly. "I didn't." I let her go again and waited.

She wasn't scared, which was surprising. If I were her, I would have ran screaming from the room. Instead she looked at me, her gaze assessing me. Much like she had looked at me during lunch hours for the last couple months, which was fucking uncomfortable.

She smiled finally, glancing down the length of my body. "You're hard." She observed.

I jerked away from her. "GEEZ-US." I actually got off the bed and stared down at her. "You are one _seriously_ fucked up bitch!"

She unrolled and stretched, showing off her lean perfect body and peered up at me out of half lidded eyes. The smile that graced her lips was all knowing and very satisfied. I was beginning to sweat… again. "What else have you imagined doing to me?" She asked sweetly, reaching down to touch herself. She winked at me and brought her hand to her mouth, licking her own juices from her fingers.

I opened my mouth. And closed it again. "You're more fucked up than I am." I said weakly, with a tiny hint of awe to my voice.

Her smile was dark. "You don't know the half of it." She purred. She patted the mattress beside herself. "But only in bed." She grew serious all of a sudden. "You try to fuck with me or bring up any of this outside the bedroom and I swear I'll kill you."

I raised an eyebrow. "No if I kill you first ho," I replied, my hands on my hips. At the same time I was processing that. Huh. Who would have thought that feminist Wendy Testaburger was extremely kinky in bed? Must have something to do with being extremely liberal. Maybe being so anal retentive about everything made her this way…

Whatever. I wasn't going to question it. Especially when she smiled at my last statement that I was going to kill her first with a feisty "You can certainly try…" And spread her legs.

Hell yeah.

My ability was no longer a concern as I proceeded to have loud, aggressive, wild, passionate sex with the girl of Stan's dreams. It nearly rivaled when I fucked Kyle in how satisfying it was… though I don't think anything could quite over take that. Wendy came pretty damn close though.


	8. I Hate my Life

サウスパーク "South Park" in Japanese  
**Clarification on things I don't have time to write in/will have to go back to older chapters and correct** : Stan found out somewhere between the hospital and home that his mom thought he was gay.  
**Warnings** : Angsty Stan/Kyle. Slight Stan bastardization.

**Author's Notes** :  
1. There is a Kenny+Shelley scene in this part that should be cut out, but I don't want to. I like it and it's cute, so it gets to stay.  
2. I was really torn about putting Kyle on drugs in this fic. I decided to keep the scenario, even though there is a social stigma attached to such things, because these things happen in real life.  
3. Reviews! Thanks to all those who reviewed and especially those who wrote "Cartman/Wendy WTF?" Heh. In retrospect I kinda regret putting it in, only in that there is no room to expand the relationship. In a way it was useful… you'll see.  
Now for fic!

------------  
Chapter 8  
_I hate my life…_

_Stan's point of view -_

-

Most of the week following when Cartman stabbed me passed in a blur. I went home the next day yes, but then I had to spend three full days either on my back or sitting propped up on pillows, doctor's orders. No moving, no walking, no nothing. I had to be wheeled from one room to the next with a rented wheel chair and my dad had to help me bathe and go to the bathroom and shit that first day home. Which was beyond embarrassing, 'cause my dad is one of those beyond embarrassing dads. I REALLY didn't need my dad to comment on the size of my penis, thanks. I told him that too and his response was something to the effect of "Hey son, I have one too, it's alright!"

Jesus.

By the end of the third day I had resorted to doing my catch up homework assignments while still stuck in bed, I was so bored.

At least Kenny faithfully came by everyday to visit and give me updates on Kyle. Apparently he was doing well, and even got taken off of the respirator on the third day. He had woken up a couple times too… that third day he had inquired about me, asking if I was okay.

Kenny told him I was doing fine.

I've never been more grateful to have Kenny as a friend. I told him I owed him a couple more chocolate bars once I got back on my feet.

On the forth day I was officially cleared to walk again. I took every opportunity to do so. Including the incredibly painful going down the stairs thing. Every step felt like I was going to rip myself open again, but I refused to give up.

Mom screamed and nearly dropped the pot she was holding when she saw me standing in the doorway of the kitchen, leaning up against the door for support. "Stan!" She exclaimed. She put the pot down and rushed to my side. "What are you DOING out of bed?"

I cleared my throat and refused to let myself fall over. "I want to go to the hospital and see Kyle." I told her.

"Stanley…" She began.

I looked up at her and did my best to look pathetic. "Mom, please? I need to see him."

She looked for a moment like she was going to refuse. Then she sighed and ran her hand through her short brown hair. "Oh all right Stan. We'll go right after supper." She grasped my arm. "Now sit down." She led me over to the table and had me sit in one of the kitchen chairs while she went back to preparing dinner.

-

Kenny was there when I made my creeping way into Kyle's hospital room. The blond was out cold, snoring lightly with his head against the foot of Kyle's bed.

Kyle was awake. He turned his head towards me and I could see just how horrible he looked. He looked gaunt and deathly pale, but he was still Kyle.

"Kyle!" I exclaimed as I made my way to his bed.

He smiled tiredly. At the same time Kenny woke up with a start and blinked up at me.

"Hey Stan." Kyle said softly when I reached his bed. His voice sounded rusty, like he wasn't used to using it.

"Oh god!" I leaned over him and took his hand on his non-bandaged side. "How are you? Are you okay? Can you move at all?"

He blinked and let out a tiny little laugh. "Stan…" He whispered. "I'm glad… to see you."

Kenny had gotten up and brought the chair over to place it behind me. I sank into it gratefully.

"I'll be outside," The blond said quietly, touching me on the shoulder.

I barely nodded at him, unable to look away from Kyle.

I waited until he was out of the room before speaking again.

"Say the word Kyle." I said in a hushed tone. "I'll kill him, I'll take a fucking two by four and split his head open with it. I'll go to jail for it, I don't care…" This reminded me of a conversation I had with him just three months ago, when I offered to kill the first set of boys who tried to do him in. I squeezed his hand tighter in mine. I already know what his response will be.

"Stan…" Kyle's eyes fluttered closed then open again. He shook his head slowly. "No." He said quietly. "I almost lost you once. I'm… not going to loose you again. Don't make me…"

I shut my eyes briefly. "Then promise me, once you get out of here, that you won't go near him again."

A smile graced his pale lips. "I'm not crazy." He said with a hint of humor in his voice. The corner of his eyes turned up with the smile, and I found myself lost in those eyes.

I loved him. I couldn't say anything about it, 'cause that'd be too weird but I knew I loved him. You know you care someone when you're willing to die for them, right? Or in my case had already almost died for them. That's how I felt about Kyle Broflovski.

-

I made my parents take me back to see him everyday for a week. The next day he was doing even better, propped up in bed and laughing and joking and shit. That was why it was so odd to see him so bad on the sixth day. He had literally regressed, barely able to move and the circles under his eyes much were more pronounced.

"Kyle?" I asked as I approached the bed. "Are you okay? You look like shit buddy."

He opened his eyes and gave me a wearied smile. "Rough night, 's all." He mumbled.

I reached out and took his hand. It was limp and clammy in my own. I noticed something that makes me turn white. Bruising, up the arm that has the I.V. drip needle in it. "Kyle," I gasp, pushing the sheet aside to see. "What happened?"

He made a face. "I… had a nightmare… wrenched it out." His eyes were slipping closed again.

I sat with him all afternoon that day, skimming through some stupid book we had to read for English class. He slept fitfully… more than once he tossed about and fought against an invisible foe in his sleep. It was around four in the afternoon when he woke up abruptly and shouted "Cartman!"

My blood went chill. I stood over him quickly, holding his head in my hands. He stared up at me. The look on his face… he looked scared out of his wits. "C-cartman?" He asked, his voice a thin reedy waver. Yet again I cursed Cartman's very existence for fucking up my friend so badly.

"No, Kyle, I'm Stan." I said forcefully.

He looked confused. "Where's Cartman?" He asked, eyes darting nervously from side to side.

I swore under my breath. "He's not here Kyle. It's just me, Stan." I said.

He relaxed by degrees. "Stan." He said. He smiled slightly and closed his eyes.

I didn't let him go until he had fallen back to sleep.

-

While Kyle was recovering in the hospital I had to go back to school with the fatass. Luckily for him he didn't sit near any of us anymore. He instead sat with some of the older boys from the football team and ate his lunch quietly without making a fuss. Which was good, because, even though he had a restraining order against me, I wouldn't have been able to stop myself from trying to beat the shit out of him if he came anywhere near me or breathed a negative word about Kyle.

No, it appeared that he knew to keep his distance. Kenny still went over and talked to him from time to time, despite me glaring at him when he did. I could forgive the blond… with Kyle gone and me pissed off, he was acting as the peace keeper. He always kinda did anyway. I also couldn't stay mad at Kenny much anyway… it was because of him I was presently still alive and kicking.

-

Dad suggested I go to anger management classes. I had to stop myself from telling him exactly what I thought about that, because I would have proved him right. I was beginning to calm down though… the more Kyle got better, the better I healed and the more Cartman avoided going anywhere near me, the more in control I felt. However thanks to me occasionally flipping out and yelling at my sister for little things like leaving hair all over the bathroom, he thought I needed some positive reinforcement or at least an outlet of some sort.

So me and Dad struck up a deal. If I had another major outburst about anything he would enroll me in a class. However if I started dealing with things better by beating up a punching bag or talking to him about stuff that was bothering me, he wouldn't make me go.

I could deal with that. Dad even bought me a punching bag and set it up in the garage. Believe me, it did wonders.

-

Kyle was released from the hospital two days before Christmas. Our family was invited over to his house for a welcome back party. Because Kyle didn't celebrate Christmas it wasn't officially a Christmas party, but we all knew it could be considered a Christmas party despite lack of decorations and no Christmas tree. My parents and his have been getting together at Christmas for the Seasonal get together for years and I think I've even heard Kyle's parents refer to it as a Christmas thing before. So whatever.

I took his present and several seasons worth of his favorite cartoons over to his house. I figured he'd need them in the weeks to come.

Kyle was sitting propped up on several pillows on the couch when we got there. "Hey dude," He greeted with a tired little smile.

"Hey." I replied.

We watched as the rest of the guests arrived… Kenny, by himself, Butters and his parents. Butter's girlfriend had apparently been invited as well, but couldn't come because she was in Canada visiting her grandparents for Christmas.

I rolled my eyes as Kenny, Butters and my sister instantly got into a three way pillow fight with spare pillows Kyle wasn't using.

"How are you doing?" I asked over both the din of the other teenagers and the adults talking in the kitchen.

Kyle managed another tired smile. "I'm doing better." He replied. He pointed with his good hand to the one that was injured. As I watched purpled finger tips jerked slightly.

"That's great Kyle!" I beamed at him. "You're going to be better in no time!"

"Maybe." He replied neutrally.

I sat beside him as the parents talked and prepared dinner in the kitchen. Usually at Christmas Kyle and I would be several levels into a video game and ignoring everyone, but with Kyle's arm out he wouldn't be able to play, and playing alone was boring.

So instead I listened, half disgusted, as Kenny and my gross sister brought up the sickest porn they had ever seen or heard of just to freak Butters out. I assumed Butters hasn't gotten much past the missionary position with Heidi by the way he squirmed. He actually squeaked and covered his ears when they got to double penetration and gagged when they brought up vomit fetishes. That was about the time that their uproarious laughter caused my mom to come out of the kitchen and tell them to leave poor Butters alone.

I kinda wished they _would_ have left Butters alone because Ike was there listening in. And since the kid has a photographic memory, he might get in shit if he went and explained the concept of double penetration and/or tentacle rape to his grade 5 class. … Even though that sounded like something we would have done.

No, Kenny and Shelley didn't consider that at all as they continued to try to gross out Butters, but with quieter voices.

With Kenny and Shelley being quieter I realized the adults in the kitchen were talking about us. I had hoped to get through the night without having to think about Cartman at all, but then I heard Mrs. Stotch ask a question. She asked Mr. Broflovski and my mom what they intended to do about him.

Kyle was listening as well, I could tell by the angle his head was at. Shelley and Kenny were oblivious; they were still whispering things into Butters' ears.

The adults spoke quietly; I suppose to prevent us from over hearing. I still caught most of it. My mom sounded resigned as she said that there was nothing they could do as their hands were tied by the law because I had attacked Cartman first. The only thing she could do was to make sure I knew to stay away from him.

Mrs. Broflovski cut in there. She didn't both keeping her voice down… I don't think Kyle's mom could speak quietly to save her own life. "My Kyle is not to go near that horrible boy ever again!" She declared.

Kyle groaned softly from where he sat beside me and laid his head back against the couch. "Mom… shut up…" He muttered.

I winced as Mrs. Stotch posed a very delicate inquiry into Kyle's sexuality by asking if it was true that Kyle had been seeing other young men. I raised an eyebrow at Kyle just as Kyle placed his good hand over his eyes in embarrassment.

Mrs. Broflovski's answer would have been comical if it wasn't about my best friend who was sitting beside me right then. "I always knew my bubbe was more sensitive than other boys." She said with a proud lit to her voice. "If he chooses that sort of lifestyle than that's his choice."

"Wow dude." I said. I never expected Kyle's mom to actually be cool with Kyle's sexuality.

"… She's not done." Kyle muttered, pulling a face.

Kyle was right. "I mean yes, it's heart breaking." His mom continued loudly. "Every mother wants their precious angel to grow up and be happy. But after all that's happened, I decided that having my baby alive is more important than anything. If he chooses that then I will still love him like any mother should!"

She said it with such conviction.

"When did she find out?" I whispered at Kyle.

"Sometime when I was unconscious." Kyle replied. He shrugged one shoulder. "I think your mom might have told her."

I winced. "Sorry dude." I said. I frowned. "I didn't tell my mom…"

Kyle shook his head. "It's okay." And by the tone of his voice I could tell that he meant it when he said it was okay. Kyle must have come to terms with his parents knowing if he was so cool with it right now. Or, I reflected, he had more important things to think about, like recovering from being shot.

Mrs. Stotch was still stuck on the entire Cartman thing. She lowered her voice and asked in a scandalous whisper. "Yes but… with the Cartman boy? You know how horrible he is! Why would he ever…"

"I told my Kyle the moment he woke up that he's not allowed to go near that boy again!" Mrs. Broflovski exclaimed.

I noticed that Kenny, Butters and Shelley were all listening in now too and they were all staring at Kyle. Kyle, once he realized, groaned again and this time buried his head into my shoulder. I patted him on the head awkwardly.

"I don't care if he chooses to be with other boys instead of girls, but that in today's world one can never be too careful! I won't stand for it if he continues to associate with that boy. That boy has been nothing but cruel to my bubbe over the years. I should have made him to stay away from him years ago before this could ever happen! I did tell him to stay away from him several times years ago, but you know how stubborn little boys can be."

"But…" Mrs. Stotch sounded confused. "They were together and he still attacked your son?"

"Oh I don't even want to go into it!" Mrs. Broflovski exclaimed, distressed, even though she had been talking about it for the last little while.

"That's horrible!" Mrs. Stotch said in reply. "There must be something seriously wrong with that child. Something should be done about him…"

"Now in all fairness," My dad spoke up. "Our boys attacked him first."

"That doesn't make it right!" Mrs. Stotch exclaimed in a high pitched voice.

It was Butters' turn to groan and put his head in his hands, obviously embarrassed about his mom.

"I tried to talk to that woman." Kyle's mom continued. "To get her to remove her boy from school, but she refused. Apparently her boy can do no wrong…" The bitterness in her voice was evident.

My sister had glanced over at both of us a while back and took in Kyle, with his head still buried in my shoulder. I guess she had had enough, because she got to her feet suddenly with a growl and stomped off towards the kitchen.

"All we can hope is that both of them will have the good sense to stay away from that boy…" That was my mom now.

"Hey!" Shelley's voice cut in. "Could you guys keep it down in here? Your kids can hear everything you're saying. Its Christmas people, come on!" With that she stomped back into the living room and sat beside Kenny in a huff.

Kenny giggled at her.

Mrs. Stotch came wandering into the living room after Shelley. "Is everything okay?" She asked worriedly, looking over all of us.

"W-we're fine mom." Butters replied in his fake cheerful voice.

Mrs. Stotch went back into the kitchen. Everything was quiet for a few seconds, until my dad started talking to Kyle's dad and Butters' dad about local sports teams. Shelley and Kenny picked up saying sexually tilted words to make Butters' blush.

That lasted a whole two minutes. Then Mrs. Stotch asked another question. "Sharron… about your son… he's not… you know… is he?"

My mom laughed and at the same time I groaned loudly. Kyle chuckled against my neck as the new topic of conversation turned to me and my sexuality. Fucking great. I did not need my dad weighing in on how he used to think Kyle and I were "funny". When Kyle's dad said "Hey!" (god knows why) in an offended tone of voice, my dad continued to explain that it was okay because everyone was a little bit gay.

I wondered where the hell he got that from. I have never been attracted to guys. They have dicks and they don't have boobs. I slumped on the couch and thought murderous thoughts towards the kitchen. Shelley wasn't even going to go get them to shut up this time, she didn't give a fuck about me and my feelings.

Kyle just grinned at me. I guess he was happy they weren't focusing on him anymore.

Not only that, I really wished Butters' mom hadn't brought it up, because it started me thinking about it again. What if I had decided to be with Kyle instead? I couldn't help but to think that if I had been with him, maybe he wouldn't have ended up with Cartman. I could probably make myself do it somehow, despite not being attracted to guys. As long as Kyle didn't try to stick anything up my ass, (and I knew he wouldn't if I asked him not to,) I could have sex with him, right?

_Right?_

Just thinking about it made me feel sick to my stomach. I gave Kyle a sidelong glance. He was smiling at me, but his expression turned to worry as I sat back up abruptly and cleared my throat.

"Are you okay?" He asked quietly. "We can tell them to shut up again if you want…"

I shook my head. I got to my feet, declared "bathroom" and went to be alone for a few minutes. I talked myself through it as I splashed water on my face. I had to go back out there and be cheerful for Kyle, not freak out like a pussy about nothing.

When I came back the subject had changed back off of me (thank God) and I sat back next to Kyle and leaned against him comfortingly. "I'm glad you're okay." I said when he looked at me questioningly.

He smiled slightly. "You too." He replied.

"I still want to kill him." I added.

He sighed and shook his head. "You…"

"Can't. I know."

The look in his eyes was sad. He turned his gaze away, to focus on where Kenny was presently licking Butters' earlobe as Shelley held him down. He raised an eyebrow. "Heidi is going to kill them when she comes back," he observed.

I made a face. "GROSS guys." I called out.

We watched them both kiss and touch Butters as discretely as they could without being too obvious. It was like watching a train wreck. I desperately wished we could just play Gamesphere and ignore them.

Finally Butters had had enough when Kenny slid a hand down into his crotch. "N-now quit that!" He stuttered, flushing bright red as he got up and moved to the other side of the living room. Shelley and Kenny exchanged high fives with each other. Butters joined Ike where the boy was working on a 5000 piece puzzle and sat down to work on the puzzle as well.

Shelley and Kenny started to talk about hot guys in Shelley's grade, rendering the conversation beyond boring. I hoped to hell the parents would get dinner ready soon, I couldn't take much more of this.

Kyle sighed and leaned against me again. "I wonder what he's doing right now?" He said out of the blue.

I was confused for a moment until I figured out who he was talking about. I tensed. "Probably making someone else's life miserable." I replied tersely. I elbowed him gently. "Don't think about him."

Kyle made a face. "It's kinda hard not to." He replied, making a hand motion to his chest.

"You can try…" I whined at him. I sighed and shut my eyes. "I don't want to talk about Cartman." I said. "I really really don't."

Kyle sighed as well and nestled against me apologetically. "Sorry," He said. I felt uncomfortable with him so close to me, but I didn't say anything. If I wasn't willing to talk about Cartman, then the least I could do was allow him to cuddle with me. That was harmless, and it wasn't like he was going to feel me up like Kenny would.

-

The other thing that happened at Kyle's party was discovering that my sister was involved with, or was about to become involved with Kenny. Which was just as sick as it sounded.

We had to watch a crappy black and white movie after dinner which sucked ass. I dozed off several times. Kyle poked me awake at one point to motion to where Shelley and Kenny sat below us and to the side. Kenny was fast asleep with his head in Shelley's lap. She was stroking his blond hair absently as she watched the movie.

Kyle made a kissy noise with his mouth.

"Sick dude!" I whispered at him, horrified. The thought of my older sister with anyone was disgusting. Even though she had gotten her braces removed a couple years back she wasn't hot at ALL. Not to mention she was like 3 years older than Kenny. Kyle giggled softly and batted me in the arm as I made gagging noises.

When I looked up again Shelley was glaring at me. She gave me the middle finger and mouthed "You're Dead". Kenny woke up then and blinked blearily up at her. She kissed him on the forehead and whispered something to him. He nodded and put his head back down on her lap.

My jaw dropped. "GROSS!" I said out loud.

"Stanley!" My mom snapped at me from across the room. She didn't see what I saw, she just knew I was interrupting the movie.

I returned my attention to the crappy movie, grumbling. Kyle was killing himself with silent laughter beside me at my reaction.

I was going to have to kill Kenny over this later…

-

It turned out I didn't need to kill Kenny. I was so horrified I tried my best to forget about it, and Kenny didn't bring it up, I suppose out of a sense of self preservation. It wasn't like Shelley sat with us at lunch or came anywhere near me or Kenny during school anyway. I decided to leave the entire thing firmly in the area of things I didn't want to know about.

I was really nervous about going back to school in January with Kyle in tow.

It turned out I had nothing to worry about. Cartman didn't come anywhere near Kyle or I. I would say he was avoiding us, but he was really casual about it. Either way, there were enough grade 9 classes that never interacting with another student was normal.

About a month after Spring Semester began I noticed Kyle staring at the girls' table and followed his gaze. There was the fatass, sitting and chatting with the girls from our Elementary school just as casual as could be.

"The hell?" Kyle muttered.

"Just ignore him." I said quickly. Okay, Cartman with the girls irritated me too, but if I ignored it we wouldn't end up fighting about it.

-

I was worried that people were going to stir up shit about Kyle again, but it turned out I didn't have anything to worry about. Other teenagers didn't pick on him anymore and when someone started to say shit, someone else was always there to defend him. It was the old crowd from South Park Elementary who did the defending too. The first time was when someone cracked a Jew joke in our Social Studies class and Token told them off, which instantly shut everyone up. The second time was in English class someone cracked a gay joke. Everyone laughed… everyone except Kyle and I and some of the girls. Jimmy spoke up then, telling everyone how not cool that was. Apparently when a cripple speaks up it makes everything awkward, which described the rest of that class perfectly. Awkward.

Sometimes Kyle reminded me of the childhood friend he once was, laughing and joking like the entire fall semester hadn't happened, but most of the time I could see he had changed. He was tired more, though that may have had to do with his healing shoulder. But also when I caught a glance at his face he looked much older than he used to be. His eyes looked weary and sad like an adults'. I could tell that he had experienced too much, too fast. That only changed somewhat when he laughed or smiled, but even then his eyes didn't really catch that spark of light in them like they used to.

His parents did him a disservice by putting him in counseling after December. I would have thought he needed it, if I didn't see him after his counseling. He was almost always angry and unstable.

January led to February, which led to March. Kyle continued to recover by degrees, at least physically. His arm came out of the sling at the beginning of March and he started intensive physical therapy to get it working well again. Apparently the bullet had caused a lot of damage to the tissues around his shoulder, hit a bone or two, damaged his right lung and cut off some nerve endings and basically made a mess inside of him. His right arm may not ever be as strong as his left again; at least that was what the doctors told him. When he had to sit out in Gym class because playing basketball was out of the question right then, he would spend the entire hour lifting weights in attempt to get his arm to carry a load again.

It was about the only time I ever saw him vibrantly alive and working hard to do something. Maybe because he just wanted to be better so he could play Basketball again, I don't know.

Things started to downward spiral around the around the middle of March. Kyle became even more passive and distant. I realized that it had been weeks since I saw him smile about anything. Even at Kenny's birthday party he was solemn. He also gave Kenny a bunch of his movies and books he used to love. I thought that was a bit odd, and so did Kenny, though the blond was grateful, he was also concerned.

-

I found to what was up a couple days after Kenny's party.

That day I went over to his house that day to ask him how counseling had gone. He was in the kitchen at the time, drinking from a glass.

When I asked I expected the usual "It was stupid" response.

Instead he screamed "How do you think it went?" And threw the glass at me. It smashed against the wall behind me as I stared at him in shock.

"Dude…" I said, surprised.

He crumpled on the kitchen floor as I went to him. It didn't take a genius to realize that he was crying. "Kyle, come on." I drew him into my arms quickly and held him as he sobbed.

Of course his mom chose that moment to come rushing into the kitchen with an alarmed "Bubbe?!" When she saw me she got an angry look on her face. "Stanley Marsh, just what do you thing you're doing?" She demanded to know.

"I didn't do anything to him!" I defended myself quickly. I went to draw away from Kyle but he gripped my shirt in his hand to prevent me from moving.

"Mom GO AWAY!" Kyle yelled at her past his tears.

Mrs. Broflovski looked taken aback. "But Kyle…"

"GO _AWAY_!" He screamed again. He pushed off of me and got to his feet again. With one violent motion he reached the counter and swung his arms out, hitting the dish rack full of clean dishes and sending them all crashing to the floor.

"Jesus Christ!" I exclaimed, scrambling to my feet. "Kyle, what the hell?"

"Everyone just LEAVE ME ALONE!" He crumpled again amongst the broken dishes, his shoulders shaking with sobs.

Both me and his mom stood there in shock.

"Has he done this before?" I finally turned and asked her.

Her lips thinned into a line and she didn't answer. Suddenly she turned and walked out of the kitchen.

Whatever. I shrugged. I walked over to him, shoving pots and pans and pieces of plates aside with my foot as I went. "Kyle…" I began as I approached.

"Go away Stan." He replied, his eyes tightly shut. He balled his hands into fists and pressed them against his forehead. I could see then that one of his hands was cut and blood was dripping down from his palms and smearing on his forehead.

"Kyle… Jesus… you're bleeding." I reached out, grasping his shoulders. At the same time his mom came bustling back into the kitchen. She stepped past the disaster and got a cup from the cupboard and filled it with water. She approached with the glass and something clenched in her other hand.

"Kyle… Bubbe, take your pill." She said, holding out her hand and the glass. I could see there was a pale blue colored pill in her hand.

"What's that for?" I demanded to know.

Kyle shook his head at me. "It doesn't matter." He muttered. "Mom, go away." He said again, trying to push her hands away.

"Come on Kyle, you know you need to take them." She reprimanded. Kyle made a face, and sighed loudly. Finally he reached out and took it from his mom's hand.

"Kyle doesn't need drugs!" I said as he swallowed it down. I got to my feet quickly, completely appalled. "How long have you been drugging him?" I demanded to know.

Mrs. Broflovski looked irritated as she got to her feet as well. "Stanley Marsh, I'd thank you not to make judgments on how to raise my son!" She snapped. "He needs them right now…"

"He doesn't need them!" I shouted at her. "He needs to be allowed to do what he wants and run his own life, that's what he needs!"

"Get out of my house!" Kyle's mom yelled at me.

I stared at her with my mouth open. A glance down at Kyle saw that he wasn't looking at me or his mom, but was instead studying the floor beside him. "Kyle!" I began, as his mom grabbed my arm and began to haul me towards the entrance of the kitchen. I struggled against her. "Let me go, bitch!" I shouted. "KYLE!"

At least he turned his head too look at me. He watched passively as his mom marched me from the room and then right out of the house.

-

I was beginning to panic. I needed to do something to help Kyle. I also vibrantly believed that drugs were not a good idea for him. I had heard too many stories of how they really messed up someone. Hell, Chef, before he died, gave us lectures on not using drugs a _lot_. I firmly believed that Kyle needed to get through this on his own.

"Are they for depression?" I asked him at school the next day. I had spent a couple minutes the night before looking up drugs for trauma victims on the Internet. It hadn't even occurred to me that Kyle might be depressed; though that would make sense with how withdrawn and down and out he seemed to be.

He nodded without looking up. "Sertraline," He said finally. "It's a SSRI."

"A what?" I replied.

He made an irritated sound with his mouth. "Nevermind."

"How long have you been taking them?" I asked him.

He looked irritated when he glared up at me from his textbook. "A couple weeks. Why does it matter Stan?" He asked.

I stared at him. "It matters because they fuck with your head."

He looked away with a sigh. "That would be the point."

I was silent for a moment. "Do they make you feel better?" I asked.

He closed his book with a snap. "Not… really." He replied. "I do have more energy though."

I looked at him. He looked away again.

"How long do you have to take them?" I asked.

"Until my psychologist takes me off of them." He replied.

I stared at him mutely. "That sucks." I said finally.

"Yeah well." He replied.

I stared at him a while longer. "God damn it Kyle. I can't convince you to stop taking them, can I?"

"I don't have a choice whether to take them or not." He said.

I shook my head. "Dude. You always have a choice."

He let out another frustrated sigh and glared at the ceiling for a second. "No I don't." He said, glaring at me. "My psychiatrist prescribed them and my mom makes me take them." He went back to looking at his text book. "I don't want to talk about it anymore." He added with a great air of finality.

-

For the rest of the week he went out of his way to avoid me, which was stressful. He always seemed like he was busy, with his head buried in his text books and studying and such. When I asked him if he wanted to come over to my house to watch a movie one night he shrugged noncommittally. "Maybe." He replied.

I asked if his mom had told him he couldn't hang out with me anymore or something. He looked at me like I was insane at that. I had to explain I was afraid she wouldn't let me back into his house or something after what happened last time and might have told him that he couldn't hang out with me anymore as well.

"She over reacted." Kyle replied. "She said so herself. Don't worry about it." And that was the end of the conversation. Again.

-

The idea occurred to me about a week later. It took me mulling over it for a couple days to get up the nerve to actually do it.

I finally sought him out in the library, sitting down beside him in a chair with a big sigh. I watched as he nodded slightly to acknowledge my presence and continued to read his text book intently.

"You know, Kyle, I was thinking…" I began.

"Mmm?" He replied.

I hesitated, suddenly nervous. "You know… you and I… we're really good friends and all that…" I hesitated some more than finally spat it out all at once. "Maybe we should go out sometime."

He dropped his pencil with a clatter. For a long moment he just sat there, staring across the library as his brain processed that. Finally he turned and looked at me. He looked confused. "What?" He asked.

I shrugged, trying my best to look nonchalant. "We should go out some time."

Now he was looking at me like I was insane. "You're straight." He pointed out.

I shrugged again. "How do you know?" I asked.

He actually groaned and put his head in his hands briefly. "Stan… don't do this to me right now. I have three tests in the next couple weeks and two major assignments due…"

I reached over and pulled his hand away from his face. When he looked up at me, startled, I leaned over to kiss him.

He jerked his head away. "Stan!" He snapped.

I tried and completely failed at keeping the hurt from my voice. "I'm sorry," I apologized and sat back in my chair. "I thought you liked me."

He blanched. "I never said that." He replied.

I know he had never said it… but I had taken an educated guess. I didn't think I was wrong either. "So you don't like me?" I asked.

"I never said that either," He replied, very cautiously.

I threw my arms wide. "Then I don't see the problem!"

He flinched. "Stan… it's just…" He twitched and picked up the pencil again. He twisted it between his fingers as he bit his lip. Finally he dropped his pencil again, sighed, and ran his fingers through his thick curls and thumped his arms back down on the table. He looked at me wearily. "Fine Stan." He said. "We can go out."

"Great!" I said, perking up incredibly. I learned over and kissed him on the mouth briefly. This time he didn't move his head away, just stared up at me mutely. I grinned and winked at him before forcing myself to casually walk away.

And so began the most awkward week of my life.

-

We were supposed to be dating and all it caused was a lot of tension to develop between us. For the first two days we didn't even touch, let alone do anything that would indicate we were going out. Finally I got sick of it all one day after school while leaving the school building. I grabbed his hand and held it in mine as we walked down the corridor. He blinked, a surprised look crossing his face, then smiled a sad little smile. He didn't let go.

We continued to hold hands right out into the school yard and towards the buses.

That night we stopped by the corner store to get slushies together. We just happened to run into Wendy when we did, who was reading a science magazine in the magazine isle.

I had hoped that she wouldn't notice us at all and we could leave without having to talk to her…

No such luck.

"Stan!" She exclaimed when she looked up and saw us.

"Hey Wendy." I said, forcing cheerfulness as I inadvertently squeezed Kyle's hand a little tighter.

She put down her magazine and looked at both of us… and where our hands connected. "So it's true then." She said.

I nodded, pasting a smile on my face. Being with Kyle was more important than my ex right then, I told myself fervently. Even though I'm sure Wendy knew I still liked her… and wanted her… and thought about her… nearly every fucking day.

She looked at Kyle, not me. "How are you Kyle?" She asked, smiling softly. "Stan being nice to you?"

Kyle managed a smile back. "Yeah," He replied. "Everything's cool."

I frowned. Wendy looked back at me and then looked to and from us both a couple times. "Well!" She said suddenly. "I'm happy for you both. Take care!" With that she turned and made her way out of the store.

"Everything's cool?" I replied, releasing Kyle's hand. He gripped it and flexed it slightly, pulling a face as he did so.

"Isn't it?" He replied, looking up at me guilelessly.

"Dude…" I shook my head. "We haven't done anything yet!" I replied. "It took us two days to even hold hands!"

Seeing Wendy had gotten me thinking about sex. It wasn't like it hadn't been on my mind all week though, with the entire dating Kyle thing. And wondering how I was going to deal with it. I suppose seeing Wendy had made me brave.

"Oh." He rolled his eyes and sighed. "Stan…" He began.

An idea occurred to me. "Do you want to come over tonight?" I said quickly, interrupting any protest he may have had. "My parents are out on their date night, and Shelley never cares what I do as long as I don't bug her. What do you think?"

He squeezed his eyes shut for a moment before looking up at me again. "Sure." He replied.

I could tell by the tone of his voice he didn't want to say yes. But everything was just so fucked up right then that I ignored the voice in my head that told me this was a very bad idea.

-

I threw up twice before he came over. I drew a shaking hand across the back of my mouth as I stared at myself in the bathroom mirror. God, I looked like shit. Sighing I splashed water on my face and tried to make myself look presentable and downed a couple anti-nauseants while I was at it. I wasn't going to throw up on Kyle if I could help it.

About a half hour after my parents left he knocked on the door. I was shaking with nerves and trying my best to hide it as I let him in. He didn't speak beyond monosyllables and grunts as he took off his shoes and jacket.

He followed me up to my room. He sat on the corner of my bed cautiously, with his head bowed slightly and his hands folded neatly in his lap.

This sucked. I had never ever been nervous with Kyle in my room before. I was beginning to wonder why exactly I thought this was such a great idea.

Then I decided that I couldn't go back. I had already irrevocably damaged the friendship by asking him out… it couldn't get much worse, could it?

I tried my best to force back the nervousness and stepped towards him. "Can I get you something? Do you need something to drink?" I asked.

He nodded slightly and swallowed. "A glass of water." He said finally with a quirky half smile.

"Great!" I said cheerfully, making a lunge for my bedroom door.

"Stan?" He called after me in a cautious voice.

I paused. "Yeah?" I replied.

He was silent. Then: "Never mind."

-

I stood in uncomfortable silence as he drank from the glass I brought him. Finally I wiped sweaty palms on my jeans and stepped towards the bed. I sat down beside him as he made a face and put the glass down on the night table.

I leaned towards him. "You okay?" I asked.

He looked up at me quickly, then nodded. "Uh huh." He replied. Wide green eyes stared at me as I leaned in the rest of the way.

I closed my eyes and kissed him.

It wasn't much different than kissing Wendy I realized. His lips weren't quite as soft as hers, but it wasn't… bad.

I grasped his arms and moved him back to ay on the bed. I could do this, I realized, as I mentally coached myself through the motions. It was actually a lot like a sport. You know what you need to do at each point to encourage the both of you to continue…and as long as I was in control of the situation, I could do this…

I ran my hands up and down his arms and swung my leg around his to straddle his torso. I pushed against him gently as I continued to press quick kisses to his mouth.

His lips trembled against mine and suddenly he moved his head away. "Stan…" He began, his voice cracking slightly.

"Shh," I said, moving his head back. "It's okay." I leaned down and kissed him again.

It seemed like I had been moving my lips against his for forever before I got him to respond. He let out a soft "ahh" sound and his mouth opened. I pushed my tongue inside and rubbed it along his.

He reacted to that, kissing me back suddenly, taking me a bit by surprise. I took it in stride, trying my best to calm my churning stomach. I reached for the hem of his shirt, pushing my hand underneath it, while my other hand went for his pants. He groaned and arched against me as I moved my mouth to his neck. His hands clasped my shoulders as he panted softly.

So far so good. I licked the skin of his neck as I continued to worm my hand inside of his pants.

Everything was going excellently until the point when my hand touched him.

He froze. Suddenly he wrenched his head away, hands pushing up against me. "Stan!" He said, a fearful waver in his voice. "Stan _stop_…"

I pulled away and removed my hand at the same time. His face was turned to the side and his eyes were screwed up tight.

What did I do? "Why?" I asked gently. "Kyle?"

He shook his head quickly, and kept his eyes tightly shut. "I can't do it."

I rolled off him all the way and sat beside him, a bit hurt and upset. "What?" I asked.

He shook his head again. "I'm sorry Stan. I just can't…"

I felt betrayed. "Come on dude, I'm not going to hurt you, you know that…"

Again with the head shake. "I know you won't." He replied. "That's not the problem."

"Then what is the problem?" I asked. "You let that Riley guy have sex with you…"

He jerked his head around and glared at me. "Is that what this is all about?" He demanded to know.

I blinked. Oh shit… now he was upset. "Kyle… no…"

He got up suddenly. "Fuck you." He was shaking. "So I've had sex with a guy. That doesn't automatically make me your personal slut, asshole."

No! Using him for sex had been the farthest thing from my mind! I thought I was doing HIM a favor by showing someone actually cared…

God damn it. And now he was going to leave. I preempted him, grabbing him by the shoulders and pulling him back on the bed. "That's NOT what I meant!" I shouted.

He struggled. "Well it sure sounded like it!" He snapped.

"What?" I replied. "Kyle I wouldn't…" I shook my head quickly. "Dude, you're my best friend!" I said, desperately, trying to reason with him.

He laughed in my face. "Really?" He replied bitterly. "Could have fooled me."

That stung. "Shut up!" I shouted. I shook him a bit. "You said you liked me!"

He winced but still managed a pretty deadly glare up at me. "Oh and that automatically makes me want to have sex with you, is that it?" He retorted.

I didn't know how to respond to that. "Well… yeah?" I replied.

He punched me in the face. I was so shocked that I fell away from him and to the side, which allowed him to get up off the bed. He turned back to face me. "Fuck you, Stan." He said. There were tears in his eyes. "Next time fucking _ask_ what I want before you assume." With that he turned and left my room.

I swore softly before getting up and running after him. He was already in the foyer putting on his shoes again. Unfortunately my sister stood at the bottom of the stairs too, looking from me to him with a concerned expression on her face.

I ignored her. I stopped a couple steps down and watched him pull on his shoes with quick angry tugs.

"What do you want Kyle?" I asked finally.

He finished putting on his shoes and stood turning to look up at me. His eyes were red. "I want you to leave me alone." He replied. With that he turned and wrenched the door open and stepped out into the cold.

"Kyle!" I shouted. I ran down the steps and to the door. He was already most of the way down sidewalk. "KYLE!"

He ignored me and kept on walking.

"Fuck." I swore as I stepped back inside and slammed the door shut behind me.

Shelley was staring at me.

"What?" I snapped at her.

She raised an eyebrow. "I heard your little yelling match." She said folding her arms across her chest. "You tried to have SEX with him?"

"SHUT UP." I shouted at her, angry and embarrassed. I stomped back up the stairs and slammed my bedroom door shut so hard I think I heard something crack. I flopped down on my bed. Fuck. How much fucking worse could this get anyway? Kyle wasn't going to go near me ever again, which means I had completely failed at everything I had set out to do.

I didn't hear her come up the stairs, but I did hear her dialing the phone from her bedroom, right beside mine.

After a long pause I heard her speak.

"Yeah… hey, Kenny?" pause "Yeah you know how you said the dumbass and Kyle were going to try to date and stuff?" pause "Well I think they just tried to have sex…"

"SHELLEY!!" I screamed at her. I dangled my arm off the side of the bed, found a shoe and threw it at the wall with all my might.

Shelley ignored me. "Yeah. I know he's retarded." pause "It didn't go well... Kyle just went running out of here…"

"SHELLEY HANG UP THE PHONE!!"

"Alright see ya." She said.

"Fuck." I swore into my pillow.

Sure enough, about ten minutes later Kenny showed up at my house.

"Stan what did you do?" He asked from the doorway of my room.

"Go away Kenny," I said darkly as I glowered at the wall. I was going to kill my stupid sister… I didn't want to talk to Kenny right then. Or anyone for that matter.

He didn't listen to me of course. "Stan… is Kyle okay?" His voice was deadly serious. He approached the bed and sat down beside me. "Stan?"

I turned to look at him. "Probably." I said. Just pissed off to all hell, that's all.

Kenny looked really worried. Seeing that look on his face made something inside me twist. I felt like breaking down. Instead I turned around again and punched my wall. "God damn it Kenny, go away!"

I was shaking, I realized numbly. And I had just put my fist through the plaster. Fuck! Dad was not going to be happy. I slumped back down to my bed and put my head in my hands.

"Stan…" Kenny began softly. He hesitated for a moment, then carefully climbed up onto my bed.

"Kenny…" I whispered brokenly. "I don't know what to do…"

He put a cautious arm around my shoulder. "Shh… Stan… we'll figure it out."

I shook my head, then looked up at him. "He's taking pills and everything Kenny. I just thought…" I shook my head again. "I thought if I was with him he'd cheer up and be happier."

Kenny shook his head slowly. "I don't think it works that way." He said.

I frowned down at my hands. "Than what am I supposed to do?" I asked.

Kenny looked pensive for a moment. "I honestly don't know Stan," He replied. "We may have to wait this one out and see."

I groaned and flopped back on my bed. "Fucking easy for you to say."

Kenny put his hand on my shoulder and shook it gently. "Stan… no matter what happens to Kyle, it's not your fault."

I looked at him. "What are you saying?" I replied. "What's going to happen to Kyle?"

Kenny didn't look to happy. "I don't know Stan. Hopefully nothing." He managed a bit of a smile. "I'm worried about him too. But if we keep on hounding him, it'll just drive him away more."

I turned over away from Kenny. "I miss him." I said finally, staring at the hole in my wall. "I miss the old Kyle." The quick witted, intelligent, defiant, laughing happy Kyle. My best friend. The Kyle that existed before the fucks at school and Cartman got to him.

"I know." Kenny said softly, almost to himself. "I miss him too."

-

God. Could things get any worse? I noticed in my morning classes that he was avoiding me. At lunch he chose to sit on the other side of Heidi and Butters instead of next to me. Kenny sat next to me for moral support I suppose.

I felt like shit for fucking everything up. I wanted to apologize, but I couldn't. Not in public at least. I considered stopping by his house on the way home that night, but then I remembered his mom.

It turned out that I didn't need to wait until that night to talk to him at all. Because after school that day I heard his familiar voice shouting at someone down the hall.

When I heard the familiar rumble of Cartman's voice reply my blood ran cold. I swore and broke into a run.

The scene that confronted me when I rounded the corner wasn't nearly as bad as it could have been. I saw red when I saw that Kyle's wrists were encased in Cartman's fists, but the way Kyle was shouting and kicking at Cartman told me that he was trying to hold Kyle off, not attack him. It was good that Cartman wasn't on the offensive, because if he had he would have been dead.

Wendy was also standing there for some unknown reason. I ignored her long enough to put Cartman out flat on his back.

I asked Kyle if he was okay. He was, or at least he nodded that he was when I asked.

Cartman and I exchanged a quick volley of insults, but I really wasn't paying attention. Instead I was thinking about Wendy. Wendy had defended Cartman. I stared at her. How could she?

She held my gaze stubbornly. I had to look away first.

I put a protective arm around Kyle and led him down the hall. "What happened?" I asked once we were out of earshot. I don't think anyone else could see, but I could tell he was shaking.

"I-- it was nothing… I don't know what came over me." He replied. He looked up at me, desperation shining in his green eyes as we turned the corner. "I've never reacted like that before Stan. He just said… something and suddenly I wanted to kill him." He pressed a hand to his forehead and stumbled slightly. "Oh God…"

This hallway was empty. I turned around and caught him before he could fall over. I drew him into a hug, and he clung to me.

"I'm sorry." I whispered into his hair. "I'm sorry I fucked everything up Kyle…"

He shook his head against my shirt. "It's not that Stan… it's just… everything sucks right now." He said. "I can't…"

"Come on…" I said. I led him down the hall to the Drama Department.

He talked as we walked, his hand pressed to his forehead. "Sometimes I think I really do need those anti-depressants." He said. "Sometimes I just want to fall asleep and never wake up again."

I sat him down on a step. He put his head in his lap, propped up by his arms. "I hate my life." He said miserably.

I frowned at that. "Kyle… I'm really worried about you." I confessed. "You're not thinking about doing anything stupid are you?"

Kyle looked at me silently. Then he looked away again. "You know," He began slowly. "When I was young I used to worry that I wouldn't get into heaven because I was Jewish. Everyone else I knew was Christian and I thought that you guys must be right. Just because there were so many of you."  
I shook my head. "Kyle…" I began.

He continued. "Then in grade 6 I thought I wasn't going to get into heaven because I liked boys instead of girls."

"Dude, if anyone deserves to go to heaven, it's you." I said, pained. "You haven't done anything wrong."

He looked back at me suddenly, and smiled slightly. "I have Stan, but don't worry about it. I don't believe in Heaven any more anyway."

I felt a lump develop in my throat. "Kyle…" I tried. My voice cracked. "If this is about yesterday…" I began.

He shook his head. "It's not. I've just been thinking a lot about things lately." He said. "I know you've been trying to help and stuff." He shook his head again. "I'm sorry for freaking at you."

"I deserved it." I replied. "Kyle…" I tried one last time.

He looked up at me. The expression on his face suddenly got very sad. He sat up abruptly, leaned over, and kissed me on the mouth.

I startled. It was a chaste kiss though… it only lasted a second. He smiled another sad little smile when he pulled away. "If I need anything, I'll let you know, okay?" He said.

I nodded dumbly. He got to his feet and made his way down the hallway. Without me.

I watched him go. It was only when he disappeared from sight that I reached up and touched my cheek.

I pulled my hand away and stared at it.

It was wet.

I was crying.

-

Kyle was literally a ghost for the next week or so. He didn't avoid going near me at all, which was a relief, but he didn't do much of anything else either. Didn't talk much, didn't laugh or joke or anything.

That week sucked even more, because it was the week I found out about Wendy and Cartman.

It was near the end of lunch hour that day and people were starting to head back to classes. Bebe found Kenny and I in the hallway, and stopped in front of us suddenly. "Did you hear?" She spoke in a scandalized whisper.

"What Bebe?" I returned, irritated.

"Wendy and Cartman!" She announced. "They're a couple."

My jaw dropped in shock. Bebe seemed oblivious. Her eyes flashed excitedly, but then she sobered up really quickly. "Poor Kyle though," She said. "I was hoping Cartman would get back together with him."  
"WHAT?" I roared at her.

"Kyle?" She looked confused as she looked around. "Where is he anyway?"

"What did you just _say_ Bebe?" I demanded to know, grabbing her by the shoulders and shaking her. "Wendy is going out with WHO?" I was vaguely aware that Kenny had grabbed my arm and was trying to tug me away from Bebe.

"Ow Stan!" She protested, struggling out of my grasp. "I said Wendy and Cartman are together." She frowned, then suddenly smirked. "Oh yeah, I forgot you still have the hots for her. Well suck it up loser." With that she turned heel and flounced off.

"I'm going to kill her." I muttered under my breath as I watched her go.

"Stan wait…" Kenny began.

I ignored him. I had a mission to complete before Wendy disappeared into her afternoon classes.

I found her outside of an English classroom talking with a couple of girls.

"Wendy." I snapped. "Can I talk to you for a second?" I asked.

"Well, I guess Stan, what…" I didn't let her finish, merely grabbed her by the wrist and began to haul her off.

-

"What the FUCK do you think you're doing?" I demanded to know once we got to a stairway.

"I was just going to ask you the same thing," She fumed as she wrenched out of the hold I had on her wrist. She was pissed, I could tell. "Where the fuck do you get off…"

"Are you going out with Cartman?" I demanded to know.

"No!" She said quickly. Realization flooded across her face. "You're jealous." She added, sounding a bit awed. "Stan, still? God, we broke up years ago!"

I gritted my teeth. "This isn't about you and me." I snapped. "This is about Cartman."

"Oh right." She replied, rolling her eyes. "Cartman. Well if you must know, he's still a racist, bigoted, arrogant horrible person Stan." She smiled a knowing smile. "He just happens to be really good in bed, that's all."

My jaw dropped. "Wendy!" I protested. I couldn't believe what I was hearing.

"Oh get over yourself Stan. Just because you were my first, doesn't mean you're going to be my last. I'm allowed to have fun you know."

I nearly slapped her. If she wasn't already walking away from me I would have. "Bye Stan!" She called after me with a little wave as she exited the stairwell and walked down the hallway.

I watched her go.

Fuck. Why the hell was Cartman or for that matter LIFE continually fucking with me? First Kyle and now Wendy? What the hell did I do anyway?

I wound up and punched the stairwell. The stairwell was made of brick, not plaster. It HURT. "God fucking damn it!" I swore. I was in serious pain. I began hopping around while cradling my hand.

That's how Kyle found me a few moments later. If I wasn't so focused on the fact that it felt like I had broken something in my hand I would have probably noticed him standing there a bit earlier.

"You okay?" He asked.

"Oh, Kyle." I greeted him. "Wendy - ow - had sex with Cartman," I explained as I hopped.

Kyle considered that for a bit. "Not surprised." He said finally.

I stared at him. "How can you be not surprised by that? It's disgusting."

He shrugged. "She's his type."

"Aren't you _bothered_ by that?" I demanded to know as I cradled my hand. Goodness knows I was bothered by it. I was so bothered I felt like killing something… probably Cartman, by tracking him down and disemboweling him. Except he still had that stupid restraining order on me. Very soon now I wasn't going to give a shit about that restraining order and kill him anyway.

Kyle looked at me. He was silent for a long moment before he replied.

"Yes." He said. He turned around and walked away.

-


	9. And I want to Die

I went back and reread this fic to get reacquainted. Some random notes:  
1. The first chapter is really weak, partly because it was written as a one-shot I think. I have no grasp of my characters yet. It's only at about Chapter 4 I begin to get into the flow of things.  
2. Because of this, Cartman's personality does a 180 degree turn. With a one shot he could be much eviler and a lot less complex.  
3. Kyle is… well, Kyle is problematic. :P I'll leave it at that for now.  
4. Wow the last two chapters were slow. I was also bored reading chapter 3 and part of chapter 4, and I really didn't want to focus on the beginning of chapter 6 because I wanted to find out what had happened to Stan and Kyle. So if I felt that way, I'm sure you readers did the same.

Author's note for this part : I wrote and rewrote the Cartman/Kyle scene to this chapter five times. FIVE TIMES. I give up.

Thanks to! My wonderful reviewers. You guys seriously rock. It means so much to read a review and find out that someone reacted to something I had written. So to my reviewers for last chapter: _FANtastic Sam_ (welcome to the fandom), _BroflovskiFan_ (I keep on putting you through hell don't I?), _randompalindrome_, _yAOi-aI LOVer_ (Haha, I was amused to read that you don't want anymore Cartman/Wendy, don't worry no more), _Lilchicky004_ (Haha, I was amused to read that you liked the Cartman/Wendy, but there is still no more), _Love x Wasabi_ (I'm glad you liked the Butters/Kenny/Shelley… I loved writing that part!), _PersianLady_, _Fia_ (I loved your review… totally cool that you gave me a critique, give more pls), and _frosty wonder ice_ who was up all night reading this, thanks! (And to anyone I might have missed, thank you to you as well!)

-  
Chapter 9  
… And I want to Die

_Kyle's point of view_ –

I thought he loved me. That night, which I remember clearly, when the light was beginning to tunnel and he was yelling at me and I couldn't hear him and all I could see was the fear and concern on his face… I thought he loved me.

I guess I was wrong.

He came back to visit me once. ONCE. Of course I was pissed off at him, I couldn't move very well and when I was awake I was almost always in some sort of pain despite whatever trippy drugs they had me on. But instead of showing any sort of sign that he cared for me he instead did everything he could to show me how fucking helpless I was, then left me there.

I'd say that was a pretty good indication that Cartman was the scum of the earth and deserved to die.

But…

But. I was hurt. I was hurt that he didn't care. I was hurt that he didn't come back again and visit. That he never said he was sorry… for any of it. For leaving me to die, for forcing me to have sex with him, for nearly killing me, for nearly killing my best friend. Nothing. He just disappeared right out of my life, leaving a gaping hole of feelings and pain to match the one he left in my chest.

I wish I could forget about him. I really wish I could. But it was impossible when every quick movement caused a flash of brief pain to well up from the injury he created, and every time I went to school I saw him, whether I was in classes with him or not.

I felt sick when I saw him sitting with the girls at lunch in February. I guessed that proved it then. He had been fucking with me back in November. He didn't care a thing about me.

Wasn't it ironic? He ignored me and I wanted him to pay some sort of attention to me. At the same time I wanted everyone who was hyper focused on me to ignore me.

It was strange that, as spring wore on, that he was the only one who elected much of an emotional response from me anymore, negative or not. Well, besides my psychiatrist, but she didn't really count and I hated her.

I tried to be upbeat about everything. Happy and all that. But it just… got to me eventually. I mean when you're flat out on your back in a hospital hopped up on painkillers, all you can do is think. I thought a lot.

As the weeks melted away I thought a lot about how much I just didn't care anymore. It was near the end of December that I recognized that I was depressed.

I'm not an irrational person. I never have been. That's why I tried so hard to work out the depression myself. At the end of December I woke up and realized I just didn't want to get out of bed, despite the fact I could now do so by myself. As I lay there, staring at my ceiling, I thought about how life really wasn't worth living.

Then I told myself that I was being stupid. I reminded myself that there were reasons I felt like this. What with everything that I had gone through in the fall, it was inevitable. I had to think positive. I could move… nothing in my body was damaged permanently. My doctor said my arm would recover as long as I kept up physical therapy. I was extremely lucky and other people who HAD been shot and paralyzed because of it would love to be in my position right then.

I also realized that I had been depressed before then. I remembered back when I couldn't bring myself to care about the fact that my parents somehow found out about me. When my mom came in to my hospital room and cried at me about how she now knew I was gay and still loved me and went on like a broken record for a good half hour all I could do was stare at her and then tell her I was tired and wanted to sleep. A month before I would have had a minor heart attack and freaked out. Now all I felt was mild embarrassment and a lot of irritation.

I figured fighting depression included pretending to be happy and caring about things. I proceeded to do just that. Pretend.

Another thing I knew was that Stan was my best friend. I knew he loved me. But I couldn't help but to think, despairingly, that he obviously wasn't that good of a friend if he didn't listen to me. Because he hadn't. And he almost got himself killed because of it.

I tried to stop thinking about that. When I went back to school he expected me to be his best friend Kyle again, and oh, I tried. It was part of that pretending thing. I smiled and laughed around him, but it was forced.

He knew it too. He kept on looking at me. Worried. I felt like I was under a microscope and would try to avoid looking him in the eye.

Pretending hurt so much. I started to think about how much I wanted to give up. But I couldn't, I had to keep on trying. Trying to make my life better, trying to study no matter how much the words would run together and I would have to reread whole pages to figure out what was going on in the text. Tried to exercise the hell out of my arm so I could just play sports again.

I got pretty good at pretending to be 'normal'. I only lost control once… well, twice if you count the time I tried to kill Cartman. The first time I flipped out at Stan when he was only trying to help me. I felt guilty about that later. He was only trying to ask me how counseling was going.

It wasn't his fault that I hated counseling.

The psychiatrist would ask really irritating questions about how I felt about my life and I wouldn't want to answer her because I didn't feel anything about my life. Then she would just look at me like a dumb cow chewing on grass until I was about ready to explode at her for being so stupid. And _then_ she would suggest ways to make my life better again, like staring at clouds or making art or sniffing flowers or something equally inane and I would have to literally hold myself back from walking over to her and slapping her across the face with my good hand.

It took her a session and a half to prescribe drugs to fight depression, which was ironic, because I certainly didn't feel very depressed when talking to her… I felt homicidal.

I took the drugs, because I figured that maybe they would help… and maybe I'd at least be able to study and do my school work properly again. If I didn't pick up my grades I'd fail grade 9 and have to repeat.

But no… I never really stopped feeling like crap and I still couldn't focus at school any more than before.

Things continued to downward spiral. It frustrated me that I couldn't defend myself. Kids in my class would defend me against anyone who even tried to tease me about being a Jew, or being gay, or both. Stan hovered over me. When I was at home my mom wouldn't stop asking me questions about my day. I just wanted to be left alone, and no one would.

I don't know at what point I began to blame Cartman in my head. It may have been right from the beginning when I woke up in the hospital, but it was probably later when I realized he was ignoring me.

Either way I eventually came to the conclusion that this was his fault. If he hadn't decided it would be really fucking funny to blackmail me into sleeping with him, Stan wouldn't have gotten hurt. I wouldn't have gotten hurt. And if he had chosen to ignore me from the beginning of November like he was now, Stan wouldn't be acting the way he was around me, which was more than a little bit irritating.

Cartman had succeeded, I decided. If he wanted to tear me and Stan apart he had done an extraordinarily good job of it. I didn't have a best friend anymore… I had another mother. When you have a mother like mine, you don't need two of them, one is more than enough.

I didn't become aware of exactly how well Cartman had driven a wedge between us until Stan actually asked me out. A year ago that would have made me happy as hell. I mean that was what I had always wanted, right?

Instead now all I felt was sick to my stomach.

Don't get me wrong. I knew what he was doing. I could understand what he was doing… he was trying to prove that he cared. But when I found myself beneath him and all I could think about was how trapped I felt… and my brain rebelled.

The last thing I wanted to do was hurt him. Yet I ended up hurting him anyway. Stan… Stan is strong. Tough. I knew I hurt him a lot. I hurt him enough to make him cry.

This again was Cartman's fault. He was a depraved psychopath and something needed to be done about him. I needed to do something about him. Before I did anything to myself I needed to deal with him first.

The day after Stan tried to sleep with me was hell. I spent the entire time at school rotating between thinking of how much I wanted to kill Cartman, how much I wanted to kill myself and feeling guilty. I felt horrible for hurting Stan when all he was trying to do was help me. When school let out the next day I decided I couldn't take it anymore. I needed to apologize to Stan. I wasn't being fair.

Unfortunately for the first time that day I could not find Stan anywhere as I pushed through crowds of people.

Until I turned the corner and spotted Wendy.

… Who was talking to Cartman. Shit. I winced and steeled myself. Despite Stan's little glare down with Wendy the day before, she still was one of the people most likely to know where he was.

I ran up to them. "Wendy, do you know where Stan is?" I asked.

And then he spoke. He spoke to me for the first fucking time in almost 4 months. He said something to the effect of that they hadn't seen my boyfriend in that deep rumbly voice of his… and I saw red.

I tried to kill him I think. I scared myself. I'm not used to loosing control like that.

And of course Stan chose to find me then. He took out Cartman, and for a moment I thought he would continue attacking him. I half wanted him to; it would save me the trouble. But he didn't.

I guess he learnt some restraint over the last few months.

When Stan pulled me away down the hall to talk to him, I broke down. I apologized for what I had done. I also told him, without actually telling him, what I intended to do.

I was going to kill myself.

He didn't need to know that though. I'm not dumb… I knew he would do anything in his power to stop me. I didn't need him to take my decision away from me.

Now I just had to figure out how to do it. A plan began to form in my mind.

I guess knowing I wasn't going to be around much longer made me more tolerant of being around Stan. And… hell, tolerant around anyone. I even smiled and was nice to my psychologist that week, which made her absolutely elated. If only she knew…

It was at the end of the week when I heard Stan swearing off down the hall a couple minutes after the afternoon classes had begun. I went to investigate.

It turned out he had just found out that Wendy had had sex with Cartman and had tried to put his fist through a brick wall. I was a bit glad he had decided on the wall instead of Wendy's face.

That cemented my resolve. I was going to take him out. I had to, before he fucked up someone else's life like he had mine. I may not have been too fond of Wendy, but she didn't deserve to be hurt like that by him.

So all that remained was to execute my plan, I decided, as I passively flushed my pills down the toilet after school that day.

"Hey Uncle Jimbo," I greeted as I neared the house. I felt brave, visiting Stan's uncle was harrowing at best… especially when he and his ever present companion Ned thought you were a wild animal and opened fire at you.

Luckily he didn't feel like shooting at me today. Not that I would have minded, but I really needed to confront Cartman before I died. "Oh hey there Kyle!" Uncle Jimbo greeted, shouldering his rifle. "How's it going?" He asked as I walked up the steps to his porch.

"Good." I nodded and pasted a smile on my face. Only a few more hours of forcing myself to smile, thank God.

"Stan told me you were going through some rough times lately, are you feeling better?" He asked.

"Oh I'm fine," I lied, my smile very strained now. Stan talked too much. "Hey Uncle Jimbo, can I ask a favor?" I said, changing the subject quickly.

"Why sure Kyle!" He replied.

I sat down on the steps between him and Ned. "I need to borrow a gun." I said.

"Well, I sure have a lot of guns." He replied. "What kind of gun do you want?" He asked.

"A small one," I replied. "Maybe with a silencer or something." I added as an afterthought. I could have opted to go steal a gun from Craig's parents or something, but these guys were my first choice.

"Well why do you want a gun like that for?" Ned asked in his monotone.

I forced one last smile. "To go hunting," I replied.

Stan's uncle isn't too bright. I figured he'd be okay with lending me a weapon, but I guessed he would end up giving me a hunting rifle or an AK 47 instead of what I requested. I ended up with a fully automatic hand gun. The fact that he gave it to me without any comment except that I should only hunt animals and Vietnamese people with it told me that he was stupider than I thought, but that really wasn't my concern.

I breathed deeply in and out once I got the gun home and to my room. I placed it carefully on the center of my bed and just looked at it as I rubbed my shoulder absently.

This was it. The end of everything. I felt incredibly calm.

I placed the gun under my bed. Then I went around the house and told my parents I loved them and I was going to go to bed early. I actually gave my mom a hug. I felt I at least owed her one of those before I went. I told Ike goodnight, but he ignored me, intent as he was on his video game.

I went back to my bedroom. For a while I wondered if I should write a will and tell everyone what to do with my stuff, then decided that if I were dead I wouldn't care anyway. They'd work it out between them. I considered, then decided that I did need to leave some sort of letter so there wasn't any confusion about what I intended to do. So I wrote a short little note, letting them know that I loved them and so on and what I was going to do. "Tell his mom I'm sorry" I wrote as an after thought. "But what I'm about to do is for the greater good of humanity." I didn't write who the note referred to. If everything went according to plan, they'd figure it out real fast.

I then placed the note under my pillow.

I set my alarm for 11 pm and went to sleep for a couple hours. When I woke up again the house was dark. I got up and set about completing the last couple steps of my plan, getting dressed in near silence. I pulled the note back out from under my pillow, reread it, decided it would do and left it on top of the pillow in plain sight.

I stopped by Ike's room on the way out and kissed the sleeping boy on the forehead. I felt regret as I looked down at my little brother. I wasn't going to be able to see him grow up.

I shook my head and pushed the thought aside. He'd be okay. He was a smart kid. Eventually maybe, he'd even understand. I stroked his black hair back from his forehead and crept back out of his room.

I left the house as quietly as I could as to not wake up my family. It really would completely mess up my plans if they caught me before I could finish this. I made it around to the backyard and picked up the ladder where I had left it earlier that afternoon.

I reached his house at around midnight, according to my watch. His bedroom light was on. He needed to be asleep.

I sighed and sat in a snow bank across the street and waited.

At about quarter after his bedroom light turned off. I waited some more, just to make sure he was asleep.

At 12:30 his mom came out of the house and got into her van. I raised an eyebrow at that. She must have work tonight then.

I felt another twinge of guilt at that. I have nothing against Ms. Cartman. Only her manipulative son. Even so, depriving her of her only child seemed cruel seeing as she seemed to love the bastard for some unknown reason.

I didn't feel nearly guilty enough to change my mind though.

I waited until her van had disappeared out of sight, then stepped out of the shadows. I checked my jacket pocket to make sure the weapon was still there… steeled myself and trekked the ladder up to the side of the house. I placed it against the side and scaled it as fast as my cold fingers and toes would let me.

Sure enough his bedroom window was just as easy to open as it used to. Very carefully I inched it aside and climbed into his room. My heart was pounding as I settled against the base of his desk and willed my vision to get used to the lack of light.

I could hear the soft sound of him snoring, I realized. Relief coursed through me.

So far so good. I pulled off my gloves and placed them on the floor. Then I pulled the gun out of my jacket pocket.

I got up quietly and snuck across his bedroom. I sucked in a couple deep breaths to calm myself and gripped the gun in my one hand, suddenly acutely aware that I was holding the weapon in my weak hand. No matter, it could raise and hold a gun. I shut my eyes briefly, and then flicked on the bedroom light.

Showtime.

"What the hell?" He muttered as he turned over, eyes tightly shut. "Mom, turn off the god damned light!" He grumbled.

I raised my arm and targeted, and pulled back the safety, which made a satisfying clicking sound.

He sat straight up in bed, instantly awake. "What, whe-" He looked around frantically and finally found me where I stood by the door of the room. He stared at me. It seemed to take a good couple seconds for him to process that I was standing there with a gun pointed to his head. The look on his face when it clicked would have been comical if it were any other situation. "KYLE?" He gapped.

"Hello Cartman." I replied with narrowed eyes. I pushed away from the door and began to walk towards the bed, noting with clinical detachment the look of petrified fear on his face.

He swallowed and recovered some of his arrogance. "Kyle… what fuck do you think you're doing?" He demanded to know.

"Something I should have done a long time ago." I replied. I felt a brief swell of pride at the fact that I was still completely emotionless. I looped around so that I stood at the foot of his bed so that I wasn't within reaching distance.

His brow wrinkled with confusion. "What the hell is that supposed to mean?" He stared at me, his eyes wide in his fat face. "Kyle?" He made a motion to come towards me.

"Don't move." I ordered, making a jerking motion with the gun. "Against the wall or I'll shoot."

He blinked. He seemed to process that. Slowly real fear crept into his eyes. He pressed back against the wall. "Kyle you don't want to do this." He said. I could tell by his voice he was trying to sound calm and confident. But I could also see he was shaking slightly. "You're not a murderer." He added.

"I will be." I replied coolly.

"Jesus." He shut his eyes briefly. When he opened them again they were full of terror. "What do you want Kyle?" He said. Begged, actually. "I'll give you anything…"

I couldn't help but to laugh at that. It was a short wounded sound. "I want my life back, you fat fuck." I said. I wanted to stop feeling miserable, I wanted him to erase November… and December… and all of spring so far.

He stared at me. "What the fuck are you talking about?" He protested finally, throwing his arms wide. "I don't have your life! I haven't even gone near you in like 4 months!"

"Yeah," I sneered. "You've just been going near Wendy instead." I replied.

Now there was utter confusion on his face. "Wendy?" He asked. "What does she have to do with this?" He demanded to know. He was leaning forwards on the bed again, though a quick motion with the gun made him press back against the wall again.

"You had sex with her Cartman!" I snapped at him. "Let me guess, she didn't want to sleep with you, but you convinced her you were the man, right?" Emotion was beginning to creep into my voice. God damn it! I needed to stay in control…

He looked shocked. "I didn't!" He shook his head slightly then continued to stare at me. "Kyle… it was a one night stand. She wanted everything I did to her!"

I lost it. "Oh yeah?" I shouted back at him. "Just like I wanted everything you did to me? FUCK you Cartman!"

I was just about to pull the trigger, when I caught his reply. "Kyle, no." He said softly. His eyes didn't leave mine. He was being serious. I couldn't see one hint of deception on his face.

I stood there, gun leveled to his forehead, breaths coming in quick little gasps. I was putting too much pressure on the trigger, I was…

I sucked in a deep breath. And then another.

I stopped applying pressure to the trigger. "… What?" I said, cursing myself in my head as I spoke. God damn it. I was so fucking close…

He frowned and glared up at me. "I said 'no Kyle.'" He hit the pillow beside him with a closed fist which made me jump slightly. "That's what you wanted to hear, isn't it?" A self deprecating smile curved at the side of his mouth. "I fucked you." He said, his voice soft, which somehow didn't make the words less horrible. "And even though you didn't fight me, you didn't want me to," He looked away and thought about that for a second, then looked back at me. "Right Kyle?"

God. I couldn't handle this. I tried to keep my hands level and stable, but they were beginning to shake.

He saw that too. And used it. He leaned towards me, placing one arm in front of himself. "I shot you." He continued, his voice still soft and smooth. "I hurt you pretty bad, didn't I?"

"Shut up." I whispered. I knew what he was doing. The seductive voice, what he was saying… they were a ploy to get me to relent. I knew that. I KNEW it. Then why couldn't I pull the trigger? My hand shook violently. I had to bring my other arm up to steady it. Tears clouded my vision. When I blinked they spilled over. "Stop…" I whispered, half to myself. I straightened my arms quickly. "STOP!" I ordered louder, taking a step back from the bed.

He froze. Then he sat up slowly and put his arms in the air. He didn't break eye contact though. "If it helps any Kyle…" He said quietly. "I'm sorry."

God damn it. How much did I just want to hear those words?

But…

He was trying to manipulate himself free. I knew that. I knew it… I needed to pull the trigger! 'NOW!' I shouted at myself mentally.

Even as I yelled at myself in my head I knew I couldn't do it. I couldn't kill him. I couldn't bring myself to just kill someone in cold blood, even if that person was Cartman.

My hands dropped slowly by degrees. I hung my head and choked out a sob. I was so fucking weak…

"Kyle?" He questioned. He had moved quickly when my arms dropped and was quite close to me now. Almost close enough to get at the gun.

No, I decided. Even if I couldn't kill him, I still intended to kill myself. I stepped back from the bed deliberately. I pointed the gun at him again. "Stay back!" I ordered.

He froze at the edge of his bed. "Kyle." There was fear in his voice now. I had surprised him. He thought he had me. I saw the desperation on his face as he held a placating hand out towards me. "Come on, Kyle… don't…"

I smiled slightly. I shook my head and moved my hand, raising the gun to my own temple. I saw the look of surprise and sudden horror that flooded his face when he realized what I intended to do. I squeezed the trigger.

"KYLE, NO!" He screamed at me, launching off of the bed.

I was startled by his scream and the quick movement. My head jerked up and away at the same time that the gun fired.

I heard the sound of the blast in my ear despite the silencer. He landed against me a split second later. Unfortunately I felt no pain, until I landed on the floor with his full weight on top of me. I realized then that I must have missed.

He quickly pinned my arm with both his hands and away from my body, while straddling my chest. I stared down my arm to where I still held the gun in my hand. Fuck. I felt sudden despair. I had completely failed. God! Couldn't I at least shoot myself properly?

"What the FUCK, you stupid fucking JEW what the hell do you think you're DOING?" He shouted in my face.

I glared up at him, struggling suddenly. "Killing myself," I snapped back at him. "Let GO!"

He looked stunned for a half a second before he got angry. "Fuck that!" He snapped back at me. He started trying to wrestle the gun out of my hand.

I gripped it as tightly as I could. "NO!" I protested, fighting him. The gun fired again, this time hitting the ceiling, which caused a shower of plaster to rain down on us. He ducked to the side and let out a string of obscenities. He didn't let go of my hand though and continued to grapple with it.

"Let go!" I protested, punching him as hard as I could in the shoulder that was closest to me. "I want to die!"

"You are _not_ _dying_ Kyle." He shouted. He gripped my trigger finger and twisted it backwards, even as I punched him in the face. I kicked and fought, as hard as I could. I know I was hurting him by how he flinched, but he gritted his teeth and refused to let go. "Let GO Kyle!" He said several seconds later, a high whine to his voice.

Finally I let go of the gun, if just to stop the pain of having my finger wrenched all the way back.

He let go of my finger and scrambled for the weapon. Suddenly he was standing above me with the gun pointed right at the center of my head. His eyes were wide. Frightened. He was breathing heavily.

I sat up. "Shoot." I ordered. "Finish what you started."

"What the fuck?" He exclaimed, his brows furrowing. "Kyle, I didn't _shoot you on purpose_!"

I glared at him and launched towards the gun. He had to step away quickly. "No Kyle!" He snapped. "Stop it." He swung the hand that had the gun in it behind himself and slapped me across the face with the other, which sent my point of view to the side of the room. "For fuck's sake." In three steps he reached his already open window. He knocked my ladder over, probably accidentally, and I heard it hit the ground with a resounding crash. Then he wound up and chucked the gun out of the window as well. I heard it hit either a tree or the side of a neighbor's house.

I felt numb.

He wrenched his bedroom window closed again and turned back to me, breathing heavily.

I wouldn't look at him.

He stomped forwards and grabbed me by the shoulders and shook me. "What the HELL Kyle." He snarled. "I'm not going to let you kill yourself."

Now I looked at him. "You can't stop me." I told him passively.

He got angry at that. "No, but I can damn well fucking try." He seethed. He reached down and grabbed me by my jacket. With that he bodily hauled me up to my feet and half threw me, half pushed me onto the bed.

I knew what was coming. I figured it was a fitting end because I was too chickenshit to shoot him. I shut my eyes and forced myself to go limp as he climbed up on the bed next to me.

He surprised me. Instead of pulling down my pants he went for my arm, the one that hadn't been shot out, thank god. He grabbed it and twisted it upwards, hard.

I didn't expect that. I nearly doubled in on myself, gasping. "Stop…" I groaned.

"Not until you stop being retarded Kyle," He snapped, twisting harder. It felt like he was going to break my wrist. It hurt like hell.

"Stop, stop," I begged despite myself. "You're going to break my arm, _stop_!"

"Not until you promise!" He raged. He didn't relent and the pain became overwhelming.

"Please," I implored him, feeling nauseous. "I won't, please!"

He leaned over so his mouth was really close to my ear. "You nearly blew your god damned brains out all over my room, you better fucking mean that." And then he let me go.

I recoiled, claiming my arm back as I tried to skirt away from him as fast as I could. He would have none of it, grabbing me and hauling him back to him. I tried to fight him but he was bigger and stronger and soon rolled on top of me, pinning me against the mattress.

Being pinned beneath him was something I couldn't handle right then. "Cartman," I whispered, terrified. "Let me go… oh god… I can't…" I broke down and started sobbing, desolate unhappy sounds.

"Kyle…" He rolled off of me and to the side. I didn't move. I was too busy being completely miserable.

I felt his fingers ghost against my cheek. A surprisingly gentle hand stroked my tears away before he took my chin in hand and turned my head towards him. "Come on Kyle…" He said, sounding slightly exasperated.

I shook my head and refused to look at him. Instead I rolled back away, curling into a ball.

That didn't work. He moved against me, pressing against my backside. His arm came across my waist and I felt his breath against the back of my neck as he spoke. "Tell me what I have to do Kyle." He said softly. "Tell me what I have to do to fix you, because I'm not letting you die."

I heaved a shuddering sigh. "Why do you care anyway?" I asked, sounding and feeling more than a little tired. "You never cared before."

He made an irritated grunting sound. He sat up and manhandled me back around so that I was looking at him. I blinked up at him.

"Stop crying," He ordered. He gripped the sides of my face and frowned down at me. "I do _care_, Kyle," He said with only a touch of sarcasm to his voice.

"Sure." I said, staring up at him. "That's why you've been completely ignoring me, is that it?"

He let me go abruptly and sat back. He looked shocked. "Jesus Christ! You WANTED me to go near you?"

I glared up at him. "Yes!" I shouted, frustrated. "Yes." I repeated, quieter. "My life sucks because of you. You shot me Cartman! You nearly killed me and then you left me! Fuck." I rolled away from him again, putting a hand over my face. "God. Do you have any idea at all what life's been like for me?" I demanded to know. I turned back again and glared at him. "My arm doesn't work properly," I flopped it around a bit to demonstrate. "I can't concentrate in classes, I'm failing the grade, I'm angry and depressed all the time. You fucked up my and Stan's relationship SO BADLY I can't even stand being anywhere near him!"

He looked taken aback. "I did no-"

"SHUT UP!" I shouted. "You did and you don't even know it. Fuck!" I threw my arms in the air. "Because you don't CARE Cartman… you've never cared about anyone but yourself! Why the hell am I even here?" I got off the bed suddenly, intent to go downstairs and retrieve my gun from wherever it fell, threats from him to break my arm or no.

"NO!" He tackled me before I could even make it a couple steps away, picking me up and half throwing me back towards the bed. I hit the side and fell to the floor. I was winded; the impact hit my back in a bad place, causing my chest to erupt into pure pain. I clenched at my shoulder with both hands, gasping. He stalked towards me and grabbed me by the collar of my jacket again even as I struggled against him. He raised a fist and I flinched, fully expecting to be hit again.

He didn't. I looked at him, wondering why. He looked fearful as he dropped me suddenly, taking a couple steps back away from me. I landed on my ass on the floor beside his bed.

I stared up at him. My throat was dry. Why the hell was he scared?

And then I realized where I had seen that expression on someone's face before. Stan. When he beat the shit out of me… then realized what he had done. He didn't want to hurt me and he had just been about to.

I watched as his eyes widened. Shock crawled across his face. Then anger. His lip curled. I swallowed and as he lost it, turning around and backhanding his computer monitor off of his desk. Then he leant over the desk and sent everything else crashing to the floor.

I winced and put my head in my hands, refusing to look as he continued to rampage through the room. I merely breathed. In… out. That sounded like the dresser… the other like his desk. By the amount of ruckus I was fairly sure he completely flipped over his desk.

God, he was such a fucking psychopath...

I didn't know what to do. Part of me wanted to go retrieve the gun and try this all over again. Shoot him, because he was dangerous… and wouldn't stop being dangerous no matter what I did. Another part of me still wanted to kill myself so I didn't have to deal with this shit anymore. The last part of me was too apathetic to care and was content to just listen to him crash around the room.

And then there was silence.

I sat for a couple moments longer before looking back up again. At least from where I sat everything looked normal. I sighed softly and turned my head.

There was the disaster. He stood in the middle of it, his back turned to me.

I got up slowly. I didn't know what to say. What do you say to something like this? I was in the same room as the boy who had smoothly controlled everything in our somewhat one sided relationship… who had suddenly gone batshit insane on his stuff. And Cartman _loved_ his stuff.

I clenched the covers from the bed in one of my hands as I stood. I knew he had meant to go insane on me and took it out on his stuff instead. Why?

I looked at his backside a bit longer before I realized he was holding something.

I walked over to him quietly, sidestepping the mess as best I could.

He didn't react as I approached. I walked around to his side.

He was holding something in his hands and was reading it. It looked like a card.

"What is it?" I asked.

He didn't do anything for a moment, then frowned and silently handed it to me.

It was a handmade Christmas card. I recognized Kenny's art style instantly. It had a picture of him and Cartman making a snowman together on the front cover. I flipped it open. It said "Merry Christmas Eric… from Kenny."

I looked up at him, questioningly. He let out a little snort of humorless laughter and took the card back from me. He walked over to his upsided dresser. He pushed it back up to its proper position, and then placed the card rather deliberately back in the center of it. It was the only thing on the dresser now.

I stood. Silently. And waited. He seemed to pause, then turned back around slightly. "Why are you still here?" He asked over his shoulder at me.

I wasn't expecting that. I opened my mouth and closed it again a couple of times as his question refused to process properly. Finally I shook my head. "What?" I asked.

He turned all the way around. A cryptic look was on his face. "Why are you still _here_ Kyle?" He asked again.

"O-on the Earth?" I asked, still confused.

The corner of his mouth twitched. "Well, I suppose that's a question too." He said.

I frowned. "You took my gun away." I pointed out.

He cocked his head to the side as he walked towards me. "You could have gone and got it just now." He replied. "I wasn't paying much attention to you."

I looked at him. "… I suppose." I replied.

"Why didn't you?" He asked, his eyes narrowing somewhat.

"I… don't know," I mumbled. I frowned suddenly, looking away. I did know though. I didn't want to die. Not really. Just knowing that I didn't know shocked me. I had been so certain. All week in fact. But in the last few minutes I had felt angry, hurt, spiteful… scared, curious… and numb, when I realized I couldn't die. But now… I didn't feel numb.

He was close enough to reach me, and I back peddled quickly, nearly tripping over his keyboard. "What are you doing?" I asked.

He merely shook his head. He reached out and grasped my chin as he inspected my face. I just stood there, heart fluttering nervously in my chest. What the fuck? He didn't look like he was going to attack me… his expression was too calm for that...

He had very pretty eyes I realized, when he wasn't glaring hatefully at me out of them.

… I couldn't believe I was thinking about his eyes. God.

"You should go home." He said finally, letting my jaw go. His eyes were cryptic again.

My shoulder's slumped as he stepped away from me. "… I don't want to." I confessed.

He blinked. "Huh." He replied. He turned away and walked over to the edge of his bed. He talked as he went. "Home life must really suck if you're willing to hang out with a guy who doesn't give a fuck about you instead." He said as he sat.

I looked at him a bit helplessly. "Cartman…" I began.

His expression softened slightly as he patted the bed beside him. "Come here." He ordered.

I frowned. "No." I replied, suddenly wary.

He rolled his eyes. "Oh for Christ's sake… I'm not going to do anything to you Kyle." He said, sliding back on the large double bed. "Just come here already."

I hesitated for a moment longer, then slowly approached the bed. I sat on the edge of it as he pulled back the covers and grabbed a pillow, fluffing it and plopping it on the other side of the bed from where he was. He looked back at me. "Well?" He said, making a hand motion to the spot. "You don't want to go home, so if you're staying, take off your jacket and lay down."

I stared at him as he turned on his bedside table lamp and got off of the bed, trekking over to the door and flipping off the overhead light.

I was still staring at him with my jaw slightly ajar as he turned back around to look at me. "What?" He asked.

I closed my mouth quickly. "I need to use the bathroom." I said. I did. I was also hungry, since I hadn't intended to still be alive right now I hadn't eaten a lot that night. However that could wait until morning.

He shrugged. "You know where it is," He replied. He then walked over to the bed and crawled onto his side.

I went to the bathroom and relieved myself. I stared at myself in the mirror for a good while after I washed my hands. I looked so fucking tired. I reached out and touched the dark smudges of bags under my eyes. My eyes looked dull and lifeless. I allowed myself a humorless smile at that, then stopped just as fast. I noticed how much that made me look like I had winced.

What was I doing? I asked the person in the mirror. Did I realize I was intending to spend the night with someone who had abused me for, oh, the last 10 years? Who I had come within a finger jerk of killing only 20 minutes previous?

My face twisted suddenly as I realized the alternative…

… there was no alternative. I was dead. This at least was an option. And he hadn't done anything to hurt me. Yet…

God.

I walked backwards until I hit the edge of the bathtub. Slowly I sank to the floor and sat with my arms around my legs and buried my head in my knees.

I wished I would just disappear. It wasn't as painful as trying to shoot myself and it took a lot less effort. I rocked back against the bathtub. Yes… disappearing sounded nice. I closed my eyes and laid my cheek against the cold porcelain of the tub.

I didn't realize I had dozed off, but I must have because the next thing I knew he was standing above me.

"Get up." He ordered, reaching down and gripping my arm.

I was confused. "What?" I asked.

He looked irritated. "Get up Kyle." He said. "You can't sleep in my bathroom."  
"Oh." I let him haul me to my feet and maneuver me purposefully back to his bedroom. It was still a mess I noted as he brought me around to the far side of the bed.

"Get in." He said emotionlessly.

I did so.

He waited until I got under the blankets until he went back over to his side. He got in, which caused the bed to sink considerably in his direction. He turned so his back was towards me and pulled the blanket over his shoulder.

Now I was wide awake. I stared at the ceiling for a long while. "My mom is going to be worried." I said to his back.

He sighed which made his shoulders heave. For a moment I didn't think he would reply, but then he did. "So let her worry." He said.

"I left a suicide note on my pillow." I said.

For a moment he was silent, then he chuckled, a deep throaty sound. He sat up and turned towards me and I could see he was smiling in the light filtering in from the street lamp outside. "Really?" He said.

"Why's that funny?" I asked him, sounding and feeling a bit hurt.

He grinned down at me. "Because," He replied. "You never do anything half assed do you?" He put on a mimicking voice. "Oh hey, I'm going to go kill myself but first I'm going to leave this nice little suicide note right here so that everyone can see it." He mimed the actions as he spoke. "Well, that's done, now I'm going to go kill myself now, lalala…"

"Shut up." I said, embarrassed.

He stopped laughing but didn't stop smiling. "You are just… predicable Kyle. Let me guess, the note also said something about bettering mankind, right?"

I flushed and threw an arm over my face. "… No." I lied.

He sounded incredulous. "You DID didn't you?"

I groaned and rolled into my arm more as he laughed uproariously.

I removed my arm from my face when he stopped laughing so hard and I stopped being so embarrassed. I smiled at him slightly. "At least I didn't write an itemized list of who to give my stuff too."

That set him off into gales of laughter again. "The fact… _the fact_ that you even mention it means you wanted to." He said once he recovered somewhat. I glared at him somewhat and he chuckled some more. "Oh fuck Kyle. You are such a Jew." The expression on his face told me he meant no offense. He reached out and patted some of my hair back from my forehead affectionately.

I didn't mind somehow. I looked up at him out of half lidded eyes, calming to a bone numbing tiredness.

He stopped smiling and instead stared down at me intently, and the hand stroking my hair slowed. Usually when he looked like that meant that he was up to something. I wondered what he was going to do. My eyes were starting to drift closed… I didn't know if I was going to be able to stay awake for whatever he had planned.

He finally removed his hand and sighed a little. "Go to sleep Kyle." He said, lying back down on his side of the bed. "We can deal with your family and the rest of your shitty life tomorrow."

It sounded like a good idea. Sleep did, that is.

I shut my eyes gratefully. The last thing I remember thinking before I lost consciousness was the realization that he had said "we".


	10. Confusion

**Author's Notes** : This is probably the second last chapter. (Then again, this was also supposed to be a one shot, so who knows?) It was going to be Cartman's point of view all of the way though, but it decided that Kyle's voice would be the best way to tell the end of the chapter. I just do what the fic tells me to do man… (In honest truth I was having a hell of a time writing Cartman, but you don't need to know that.)

**Author's Notes pt 2** : I have a story to tell you, since this is the closest I've ever come to finishing a novel length fanfic. Once upon a time a girl in the DragonBall Z fandom posted a chapter of her epic fanfic and mentioned that it was the second last part. Then she got killed in a very unfortunate car accident. After that us people in the fandom had to explain to her Christian parents that her daughter was famous online for writing gay fanfiction and drawing gay fanart and the meaning of the word "slash". (Can you say awkward?) And THEN there was a huge debate about whether fans had the right to finish her fic. On that note if I DIE before the next part comes out, and I'm confirmed DEAD (no, not answering your emails doesn't count) someone can finish this. In fact, make it a contest or something. Best sex scene wins. Oh yes, and feel free to tell my Mormon parents that I write gay fiction, I'll be dead so it's okay for them to be pissed off at me. In fact, it'd be kinda amusing. (Tell them I love them anyway, okay? And no, I do NOT intend to die anytime soon, I love my life and my life is also not a South Park fanfic.)

**Author's Notes pt 3** : A special note to thank my boyfriend Isaac for betaing this. Even if I force him to do so.

**A Note to my Reviewers** : I was absolutely astounded by the fact that three of you said you didn't like the pairing. I am touched that you are willing to read 79,000 words of a fic about a pairing you don't like. That's just… wow. Oo; And to the rest of you, thank you so much for your patience and support. Yes, this part took a while to get done. For that I am sorry.

-

Chapter 10  
_Confusion_

_Cartman's point of View, Kyle's point of View -_

It had been a one night stand. I should have expected as much. It was Wendy after all. Still, it sucked to have her in my bed one night all glowing and sated and happy and then the next day have her basically ignore me at school.

Then again, Wendy's a bitch. I also had no doubt that I'd end up having sex with her again sometime. I had quickly learnt that night that she had serious issues and she was far too much of a freak to allow that to be the end. She was going to either sleep with me, or she'd sleep with some other random psycho who might actually kill her. At least I wouldn't kill her. Maybe.

Either way it was a no wonder Stan was never able to satisfy her, if she found the threat of serious bodily harm from people she hates a turn on. Stupid Nazi loving liberal. Fuck.

What I didn't expect was to have to defend my actions with her to Kyle. Stan maybe. Probably actually. But Kyle? Never saw it coming. I should have I suppose, but you don't really expect someone you've barely talked to in three months to show up in your room with a GUN. I knew he wasn't doing so good in the happiness department… him and Stan seemed to have broken up, but to lead him to break into my room and try to kill me? What the fuck?

-

My brain kicked into instantaneous problem solving mode the moment I saw him standing there with that gun pointed right at me. The first thing I had to do was to keep him from shooting me. This was to either talk him out of it, or find out why he was here and then talk him out of it.

I almost lost the battle. I saw cold insanity in his eyes as I talked to him and felt fear. I knew if there was any chance in hell of me getting out of this alive I had to beg for my life. Which I did, since begging is something I've done on occasion. Hell, it gets me things. In this case it would get me my life, so I figured the trade was fair.

Interestingly enough it wasn't the begging that got him to relent. It was being nice to him. Go figure. I'm glad I found the right thing to say, though with Kyle it isn't hard, I've known since forever that Kyle relents if you either are nice to him or admit you are wrong. Kinda sad though that all he wanted was for me to admit wrongdoing. Though I didn't really see what I did as wrong, self serving maybe, society as a whole viewed it as wrong and Kyle certainly did too. Either way, it sure helped a whole lot.

I had started to slide forwards on the bed, manipulating him with words, like he was a puppet on strings. I made him hesitate. **Good**. Tears filled his eyes… not so good, but I could work with that. His arms came down, lowering the gun from being pointed right at the middle of my forehead to somewhere along my legs.

I had almost reached him when he surprised me. He had come in with a plan, one that I shoulda seen coming. He didn't just want to kill me, and I wonder now if he ever did want to kill me in the first place. He wanted to die.

There was a time, a long long time ago, when I would have been happy to oblige the fucker. But when he turned the gun towards his own head all I could think about was stopping him.

I physically attacked him and he missed, thank god. He nearly shot me two seconds later. A couple of seconds after that I succeeded at getting the weapon out of his hand. I pointed it at him because it was natural instinct to do so, he was trying to fucking kill me for Christ's sake. Then he told me to finish what I had started by shooting him.

What the fuck.

It was obvious I was going to have to get rid of the weapon. Which is exactly what I did… I walked over to the window and threw it out into the night, then turned back to him. He sat on the floor with his shoulders hunched. He looked desolate and alone.

I got him on the bed and bullied him into agreeing not to try to blow his brains out… but I knew it wasn't going to stick. I wasn't going to be any more successful than anyone else in his life at convincing him not to kill himself.

But when he broke down and started sobbing I realized I there was some hope. He could feel.

Well of course he could feel… which was really fucking awesome, I wish I could… but he wasn't really doing much to show that he wanted to die. He was showing that he was miserable yes, but suicidal, no.

I was torn as I watched him cry his eyes out. My instinct was to kill him with my bare hands if I had to. He had JUST held a gun to my head and nearly shot me. Anything that threatened my wellbeing needed to be eliminated. Right? The rational side of my brain was forced to admit that this was at least partly my fault… and, well, I still thought he was cute despite the pansy assed crying.

I decided then that I didn't want him to die; I wanted to fix him instead. Somehow. If I even could. This meant I needed to do something I hadn't done much of before. Like listening to him.

I reached out and touched the side of his face. The tears _were_ annoying. "Come on Kyle…" I said, exasperated.

He shook his head and rolled away from me. I sighed and hugged him from behind, which caused him to struggle against me briefly. "Tell me what I have to do to fix you," I said. "Because I'm not letting you die."

I discovered the problem then and there. "Why do you care?" He returned, sounding very bitter. "You never cared before."

That shocked me. I had been doing my utmost NOT to go near him, partly because I'd end up molesting him or forcing him to do something against his will. Not only that, the one time he came near me he tried to beat the hell out of me and now he was telling me I didn't care? The hell?

Then he got mad at me and accused me of ruining his and Stan's relationship, which was utter bullshit. It's not my fault that Stan's retarded.

Then he tried to leave.

I was pissed. Firstly for being yelled at, secondly because I didn't want him to leave. If he left I had no doubt he'd go and try to off himself elsewhere. So I ran after him and grabbed him from behind.

Things went badly from there. He doesn't weigh a whole lot at the best of times and I throw my own weight around pretty good. He ended up crashing into the bed and made a wounded sound like Stan's dog used to do when you kicked him. I didn't realize until I saw him grab at his chest with his face screwed up in a horrible grimace that I had hurt him pretty bad. Shit. The gut knotting feeling of regret flooded back to me just like it had the night I had accidentally shot him.

I forced the guilty feeling back with anger. Growling under my breath, I crossed the room and hauled him up by his shirt. He struggled and flinched and I saw the knowing look of fear. He expected me to hurt him. And the problem with that was I **wanted** to.

I dropped him. I couldn't do it. He stared up at me with wide eyes, the fear on his face bleeding into an expression of complete and utter exhausted despair. He was so fucking broken and he just expected me to continue tormenting him until there was nothing left.

I was horrified… I could feel blood pound to my cock at the mere thought of beating the shit out of him. FUCK. I couldn't hurt him again. I COULDN'T…

He needed to get the fuck out of my room right then and there. I wasn't going to be able to stop my self very long. I didn't hit him, hell I didn't even go near him, but I found other things to tear apart. Like my entire fucking room. I figured that would be enough to get rid of him and I'd be able to blow off some "I almost got shot tonight and I am not going to be able to kill the lovely piece of ass who did it" steam in the mean time. I felt horrible about trying to scare him away… part of my mind was screaming at me that if I didn't stop he'd go commit suicide elsewhere, but I reminded myself that it was better than me killing him. One of those two options didn't land my ass in jail for the rest of my teenaged life.

I stopped when I over turned my dresser and Kenny's card came fluttering to the floor. I nearly tore it to shreds. Nearly. I stopped then and stood, holding it, still breathing heavily.

Ha. Fuck me, now all I could think about was Kenny crying in the hospital. How the poor bastard was always nice to me anyway, no matter what I did to him was beyond me. That was the only reason why I was nice to him in the hospital anyway… I don't like to see the only person I care about in pain. Well, second only person I cared about. The other person was…

He was still here. I could hear his footsteps as he slowly approached me from behind. I was more than a bit surprised. I thought he would have been long gone by now.

He still had some guts left. Imagine that.

He asked what I was holding. I felt protective for half a second, he didn't need to see Kenny's card, then I handed it to him.

He read it over and handed it back to me, a bit of a confused look on his face. At least he wasn't looking at me with pity in his eyes.

I took the card, and walked back over to my dresser. I righted it and replaced the card. At the same time I considered. I wasn't angry anymore, my rage having ebbed away almost as quickly as it had come.

I shut my eyes briefly as I considered that. I had calmed down… my blood lust was back in check, and I didn't feel like killing anything at the moment. If I didn't want Kyle to die and I wasn't going to kill him, I needed get to work.

First thing to do was to ask questions. Why was he still here? That was an easy question to answer. He was here because he liked me. No I wasn't flattering myself, he had to have some sort of demented connection to me if he was willing to come blow my brains out because I was ignoring him and fucking Wendy. Both issues which had come up when he had that gun pointed to my forehead.

I determined further that he liked me just by approaching him. His eyes widened slightly. His breath quickened. I didn't even need to fucking touch him and he was reacting visibly. Ha, pretty hilarious that I had managed to mold him this well in one month alone. I grasped his chin so that I could look into his eyes and I think I saw a bit of lust there. But that might have been my imagination.

I contemplated kissing him briefly than decided I'd experiment with that later. For two reasons really, the first being my reaction… I didn't quite trust myself yet and second for his reaction. He was too strung out… too fragile for me to try to do anything to him without having him take off like a shot.

Now that I had him I wanted to keep him here as long as I could. Luckily a window opened it's self when he confessed he didn't want to go home.

The poor fucking bastard.

So I convinced him to stay. He took the offer, a bit reluctantly, then escaped into the bathroom.

Still had the good sense not to jump directly into bed with the enemy. I took that as a good sign.

I crawled into the bed on the side I decided I wanted to sleep on and stared at the ceiling for a bit, frowning as I turned the entire night in my head over and over again. It was only when 10 minutes passed, and then 15 that I began to wonder where he was. Swearing softly under my breath I got back out of bed.

I didn't even bother knocking on the bathroom door. Instead I pushed it open and looked inside.

My breath caught in my throat. For a millisecond I thought he was dead, with the angle his head was at laying back against the tub and how deathly pale he looked. Then I saw that he was breathing through his slightly open mouth.

Oh god, he looked like shit. I felt sorry for him again as I trekked over to where he slept.

"Get up." I ordered.

He didn't react.

"Get up." I ordered again, reaching down and taking his arm roughly.

He woke up then, blinking up at me blurrily. "What?" He asked, looking utterly confused.

I gave him my best glare. "Get up, you can't sleep in my bathroom Kyle."

He must have been really tired because he didn't even offer up a protest and came back with me to my room. I pulled back the blankets from his side of the bed and he crawled in.

I got in on the other side and schooled myself to turn away from him.

Then he told me about the suicide note.

For some reason a mental image of Kyle meticulously writing out a suicide note came to mind, and that image was extraordinarily funny to me. All of my tension melted away as I laughed at him.

It did wonders. He groaned and spoke like normal, like nothing was wrong. When he told me that he had been tempted to write an itemized list of who to give his things to, I couldn't help it. I called him a Jew - affectionately of course. I could rip on him seriously again when he wasn't so fucking fragile.

He didn't seem to mind so much because a tired smile caressed his lips at that. I looked down at him as I sat beside him on the bed. On a whim I reached out, pushing his hair back from his forehead. His eyes fluttered at the contact, lashes dark against his pale cheeks.

I schooled my expression as I felt my body react to the mere fact that I was touching him. It was frustrating, but also telling. I needed to figure out how to save him and get him to… tolerate me I guess… that was the only was I was going to be able to get to fuck him again.

But how? It was going to be insanely hard. I frowned slightly as I continued to stroke his hair. I had already burned nearly every bridge I had when it came to him. The fact that he was even here in the same bed as me was a miracle… a miracle I had caused myself by preventing Kyle from killing himself. And exactly how long was that going to last anyway? Until tomorrow morning, that was how long. Someone retarded, like his mom or maybe Stan was going to come right here and demand to know where their precious Kyle was…

I got lost in thought for a moment and barely noticed that he was falling asleep, his eyes sliding closed and his brow wrinkling as he struggled valiantly to stay awake. I realized then that he was trying not to fall asleep because I was still looking at him. I stopped touching him and flopped back onto my side of the bed and told him that we'd deal with his life tomorrow. Because we would. We had to.

I laid there and listened as his breathing evened out. It was only after I was absolutely sure he was asleep that I sat up and looked down at him again.

He looked considerably older now I realized. I hadn't truly looked at him since November, and there was a marked difference in his appearance beyond the new gauntness to his cheeks. His face had lengthened, the jaw looked firmer. His nose was large and characteristically bent, though that was about the same as before…

He looked more like an adult, I realized. He was also looking more like just any old ugly Jew. He was my ugly Jew though, and _I_ thought he looked hot. I smiled at that, then blinked.

"Fuck," I muttered under my breath. Couldn't I go thirty seconds without thinking about him that way? Stupid hormones.

And the thoughts had made me hard. AGAIN. Fuck it, and I couldn't even jerk off here…

I considered for a brief moment, grinning to myself. Well, I _could_…

But no. Best not to.

I sighed and slid off the bed, padding from the room.

Once in the bathroom I proceeded to delve into my pants with quick fingers, releasing my throbbing erection. I wrapped a hand around myself and groaned through gritted teeth as I jerked myself off. It took very little time before I came, gasping for breath. I quickly cleaned up and tucked myself back into my pants.

I had perfect timing. I heard my mom come in the door just as I stepped out of the bathroom.

I went downstairs. She looked startled to see me. "Eric, sweetie, what are you doing up still?" She asked.

I shook my head. "Kyle broke into the house." I said, folding my arms across my chest. "I told you we need better security in here."

"Kyle?" She looked almost frightened. "Eric, poopiekins…" She began.

"Don't call me that." I snapped. God, there was a couple things I HATED being called and that was one of them.

"Eric, you know you're not supposed to go near the Broflovski boy," She said, a nervous lit to her voice.

"Well maybe you should have told _him_ that," I retorted sarcastically. "I didn't tell him to come over and break into my room."

Her hands fluttered nervously as she put her jacket away. "Where is he, honey?" She asked.

"In my bedroom." I returned, raising an eyebrow.

"May I see him, sweetheart?"

"No." I said impudently. She looked distressed, so I sighed and relented. "FINE."

She followed me up the stairs and pushed open my bedroom door. Sure enough Kyle was just where I left him, fast asleep with the blankets pulled up around his shoulders. His face was still turned towards the door and he still looked like shit, something my mom probably noticed. "The poor dear," she said, looking all sad and worried. She didn't breathe a word about the state of my room.

"See," I said, pushing her out of my room again. "Fine. And he'll still be fine tomorrow. But you need to put up an electric fence."

"Of course dear," She said as she went down the hall towards her own room.

I shut my bedroom door again and leaned against it, groaning softly.

God, I wasn't getting much sleep tonight, was I? I considered Kyle for a while longer before trudging back over to the bed and frowning down at him.

He didn't move. He must have been really tired.

Hm. A plan had begun to form in my mind of how exactly I was going to save him since I went on my little rampage and wrecked my room. As I stood there looking down at him, that plan cemented.

But to implement it, I needed help. I trekked back out of my room to find a phone that I could talk on without waking him up.

-

The voice on the other end of the line sounded more than a little bit sleepy when it answered. "'Ello?" It asked.

"Heya Kenny." I replied.

Kenny sounded instantly awake and annoyed. "Eric, it's two in the morning!" He said. "What the hell are you doing calling at this time of night?"

"No reason," I said cheerfully. "I just wanted to know if you knew where Kyle is right now." I smiled to myself as I spoke with my sugary sweet "I'm up to something" voice, knowing that Kenny's reaction would be priceless.

It was. A couple seconds of silence crawled by before Kenny replied in a curt voice. "Where is he Cartman?" His voice shifted up ever so slightly, sounding alarmed. "What did you do?"

"Do?" I laughed. "Kenny, Kyle just broke into my house. With a gun." I paused significantly. "He tried to kill me." I paused a last time. "I couldn't let him do that you understand."

There was another bought terse silence. I could hear Kenny's breathing. "Where is he now Cartman?" The concern in his voice was palpable. I felt a small flash of jelousy at that… if it were me instead of Kyle Kenny would never be this worried…

"Who, Kyle?" I replied, knowing very well that was who Kenny meant. "He's fine. Besides being a little suicidal I suppose." I laughed again. It wasn't a pleasant sound. "But I took his gun away so I guess he won't be trying to blow his brains out again any time soon."

Kenny swore under his breath at that. "Damn it! Then what did you do to him Eric?" He demanded to know.

I grew serious. "He's fine Kenny, chill," I replied, dropping my teasing voice for a serious one. "Seriously. He's asleep in my bed right now if you must know…."

"In your bed?!" Kenny's voice reached a new high. "I'm coming over." There was a click and suddenly the line was dead.

I smiled slightly and replaced the phone on the hook.

-

Sure enough about 5 minutes later a shivering Kenny arrived at my house. I silently opened the door before he could knock and wake up my mom.

"A-alright. What happened?" He asked as he stepped in from the cold, rubbing his arms for warmth and stomping the snow off of his boots. He reached down to undo them.

I shrugged, still completely serious. "Just what I told you on the phone." I said. "He broke in here, tried to kill me, then tried to kill himself. I stopped him."

"Fuck," He replied. He straightened and gave me a level look. "I want to see him Cartman." He said.

I threw my hands in the air. "What the fuck is with you guys wanting to see him?" I asked. "He's FINE Kenny. He's asleep."

Kenny shook his head stubbornly, stepping past me and heading for the stairs. "I want to see him anyway."

I rolled my eyes. "Fine. Douchebag." I grabbed his arm and pulled him behind me as I went up the stairs first. Sure enough Kyle was asleep in the exact same place I left him last time.

Kenny ducked around me and went into the room. "Did you do this?" He asked in a whisper, making a hand motion to the mess in my room. "Or did he?"

"I did." I replied, folding my arms across my chest and glaring at him.

Kenny made it all the way over to the side of the bed where Kyle slept. He leant over him and shook his shoulder gently.

"Ay! Don't do that!" I protested. "He's asleep, retard."

Kenny ignored me. Instead he leaned over so he was speaking really close to Kyle's ear. "Hey hon. Wake up." He said gently as he rocked his shoulder.

"Fag." I grumbled as I leaned up against my wall. He heard me too but didn't look up.

Kyle woke up in degrees. He mumbled something, then when Kenny didn't let up on the shoulder, he grunted and rolled towards him. His eyes opened and he stared up at Kenny with an expression of utter confusion on his face.

"Kenny?" He questioned sitting up in the bed.

Kenny grinned at him and let go of his shoulder. "Hey Kyle, how's it going?"

The Jew blinked. He still looked utterly confused. "Are you dead?" He asked finally.

Kenny laughed at that and sat down on the bed next to him. "No Kyle, I'm still alive."

Kyle looked around the room. Realization hit when he caught sight of me leaning up against the wall. Then his face actually fell, a fact that concerned me greatly. I frowned. "Oh." Kyle said. He looked towards his lap.

Kenny slid onto the bed easily, putting an arm around Kyle's shoulder. "Kyle…" He said, sounding like he was in pain. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."

Kyle looked up again quickly. "Cartman musta told you." He said, a rueful look crossing his face. The expression on his face softened as he inspected the other boy. "Kenny it's okay. Really."

"I didn't know what to do," Kenny continued. "Kyle we knew you were upset, but I thought you wanted to be left alone. If I knew…" His voice cracked and he hugged Kyle, burying his head into the other boy's shoulder.

I was kind of sickened this was going on in my bedroom, but I felt for Kenny then. He cared way too much for his friends. My eyes strayed to the card on my dresser. My only belonging that wasn't on the floor. Or in my bed, since I had started to think of Kyle as mine as well. Heh.

"I wasn't upset at you Kenny." Kyle spoke now in a tired voice. "I just wanted Stan to leave me alone." I glanced over at them again. Kyle had his chin resting on Kenny's shoulder with his eyes closed, but there was a pained look on his face. Something shitty happened between the two of them that probably caused the break up. I assumed it had something to do with Stan being extremely over protective…

"I'm sorry." Kenny said again. I rolled my eyes. That was like the third fucking time he had apologized for nothing.

I couldn't take much more of this. Actually, that was enough frankly. "I'll be downstairs," I announced. Before I could get a reply from either of them I left my room and shut the door deliberately behind me.

-

Kenny finally made his way down the stairs about 10 minutes later. I sat at the kitchen table, drumming the fingers of one hand against the table and sipping out of a cup of cocoa out of the other. At the same time I was darkly contemplating how I was probably going to loose Kyle. I imagined Kenny was going to convince him that he needed to go over to his house for the rest of the night instead.

Which was why I was so surprised when Kenny came downstairs alone. "Where's Kyle?" I asked, raising an eyebrow at him.

Kenny stood at the door way. "Asleep." He looked really tired too, but that may have been because it was nearly 3 in the morning.

"And?" I replied. "What else did he say?" For some reason I sounded worried, a fact I cursed myself mentally about. I pretended to be nonchalant by leaning back in my chair casually.

Kenny gave me a long hard look. "He says he wants to stay here with you." He frowned. "Which I don't like." He added.

"Oh fuck you Kenny, no one asked you if you liked it or not." I said leaning forwards again. Inside I was secretly smiling. Kyle chose to stay with me over Kenny, which was awesome.

Kenny merely raised an eyebrow at me, than walked past the table. I watched as he went over to the counter busied himself making himself a cup of cocoa as well from the stuff I left out. "Cartman, seriously." He said as he worked. He afforded a glance back at me. "You don't really have a brilliant track record when it comes to him. You've shot him, his mom thinks you're the devil reincarnate and a neo-Nazi, and you really haven't done much to prove her otherwise." When I was quiet he continued. "Stan hates you for shooting Kyle, stabbing him, AND sleeping with his ex…" He turned around suddenly. "How the hell did you pull that one off anyway?"

I snorted into my cup. "Wendy's a slut." I said, shrugging.

Kenny looked pensive as he turned back to his cup, filling it with hot water. "She never slept with me… anyway." He sighed. "You're not going to be able to go anywhere near him, let alone convince him that life is actually worth living…"

"That's where you come in Kenny." I said smoothly, standing from the table.

Kenny turned back around quickly. "ME?" He returned. "Oh nononono, Eric, whatever you got planned, I'm not involved…"

I sighed. Loudly. "It's not anything complicated Kenny!" I said, deliberately whining. "Look all you have to do is tell his mom he's at your house when he's really at mine and stupid shit like that."

Kenny glared at me.

"And tell Stan to back off." I added.

"Oh for fucks sake, Eric," Kenny looked angry now.

"What?" I returned. "I can't go anywhere near him if Stan's still being a retarded asshole!"

Kenny actually visibly grit his teeth. Finally he took a sip from his cup and actually seemed to consider for a while. "Are you going to have sex with him?" He asked finally.

It was my turn to be taken aback. I didn't expect him to ask something like that. At least not seriously. "I -- what?" I returned. "I don't know! Why?"

Kenny's eye's narrowed. "You do know what happened between Stan and him right?" He said.

I actually didn't. "No I don't Kenny, why don't you enlighten me."

He gave me a sour look. "Stan tried to have sex with him." He said. "It didn't go over very well."

I had to bite my tongue to stop myself from laughing. Laughing would piss Kenny off. "He did?" I said after a moment or so. "That… explains a lot." I smirked.

Kenny heaved a sigh and came over to the table. "Look, Eric…" He sat. "I know this doesn't mean anything to you but that boy up there…" He pointed to the ceiling. "Was gang raped last September."

I shrugged. "So?"

Kenny glared. "So, it means that he's pretty fucked up up here." He tapped his forehead. "Outside of the damage YOU did, which I'm sure is considerable."

I shrugged again. "So?"

Kenny looked irritated. "So, it means if you want me to help you there will be no more mind games or forcing anyone to have sex with anyone else. Got it?"

A slight smile quirked at the side of my mouth. "What if he wants to have sex with me?"

Kenny made a face at that, then shook his head slowly. "Than you really are the luckiest asshole alive." He sighed and gave me a considering look. "Eric… look, he's suicidal and depressed. That means you can't do the things you used to be able to do. Alright?" He thought for a moment more. "Just… don't make Stan's mistake."

I raised an eyebrow. "That would include sleeping with him, Kenny." I said. "I can't promise that you understand."

Kenny shook his head again. "Not… no. That's not it. You've gotta let him be in charge Eric. Let him call the shots. Stan tried to force him… I think. It wasn't pretty."

"That's because Stan's not nearly as good at this stuff then I am," I bragged.

Kenny groaned loudly and got up from the table. He put his cup in the sink. "You never change do you?" He asked. It was a rhetorical question, and he continued. "Just be _careful _with him okay? I don't want him to die and I don't think you do either." He turned around and headed for the door.

I followed him and watched him pull on his shoes. He looked back up at me as he did so. "And if you do anything to hurt him I swear to god Cartman, you'll have both me **_and_** Stan to worry about."

"You're saying this about the boy who just tried to blow his own brains out?" I returned. I snapped my fingers suddenly. "On your way out can you pick up the gun? It's somewhere in the side yard."

Kenny looked surprised for half a second, then narrowed his eyes at me. "You're not going to kill him and try to frame me are you?"

I laughed at him. "How could I?" I chuckled. "The cops took my gun, remember?"

Kenny rolled his eyes. "Like I'm sure that you don't have a storehouse of them somewhere."

I actually didn't, but I didn't tell him that. "Go home Kenny," I said amicably.

"Alright." He turned away. "See you in school on Monday?" He said. He paused then turned back again. "With Kyle?" He added.

"You do realize I'll have to hand him over to his mom tomorrow," I replied dryly. When he raised an eyebrow at me, I shrugged. "I can't keep him here all weekend."

Kenny rolled his eyes. "I don't know which is worse, you or his mom." He muttered.

"I'm like one thousand times better than that bitch," I replied indignantly.

Kenny smiled at that. "I'll call him tomorrow." He said, changing the subject. He glanced back at me one last time. "Good luck."

"Yeah yeah. Get out of my house asshole." I gently shoved him out the door back into the cold night.

-

"You are far too much trouble than you are worth," I muttered at the sleeping boy once I got back to my room. I crawled into bed and settled next to him, glaring at him as he continued to sleep peacefully. "Fuck." I finally pronounced, rolling over on my side away from him. I yawned and reached out, turning off my bedside lamp. I expected to be kept up half the night with horrible mental images of him pointing a gun at his head and pulling the trigger but instead I think I fell asleep pretty much right away.

-

_Kyle's point of View…_

When I woke up it was still dark. I expected to be dead, which was why I was so confused to see Kenny standing over me. Then I thought maybe he was dead and I was in heaven with him or something.

Turned out Kenny was still very much alive. That's when it hit me… I had failed. I was still alive… I could feel the dull ache in my shoulder… I could remember Cartman putting me to bed. I looked up and saw his room in the shadows. Then I saw him. He was standing against the wall by the door. My keeper. Great. I looked away again, slightly uncomfortable that he was there, watching. But knowing he was there meant that Kenny… that Kenny must know everything.

He did. He broke down, crying on me. I hugged him. God, if anything I didn't want Kenny to have to deal with my shit. I felt guilty yet again. Sure my intent may have been noble, but I had just made another one of my friends cry at the mere thought of me not being around any more. Damn it.

I guess Cartman had enough of Kenny and I hugging or something because he announced he was going to be downstairs and left the room, shutting the door behind himself as he went.

Kenny soon got a hold of himself and drew away. "Come on." He said, pulling back and grasping my arm. "Lets go Kyle… you can stay at my house."

I blinked at him, then pulled my arm back gently. "I appreciate the offer Kenny," I said. "But I can't."

He stared at me like I had two heads. Then he got angry. "Did he threaten you?" He demanded to know in a low whisper.

I actually smiled at that. "No." I said. "I want to stay here though." I said. I snuggled back down into the blankets again.

"Why?" Kenny demanded to know, leaning over me. His wide blue eyes were full of suspicion and concern. "Kyle, he nearly killed you."

I flinched slightly and shrugged. "It's…" I hesitated, searching for the words. God it was hard to think when I was too tired to even focus anymore. "Kenny, he makes me feel alive." I confessed finally, yawning. It was true. Aaand, I was falling asleep.

He put a hand on my shoulder and nodded slowly. "Alright Kyle. I'm going to go have a talk to him." His jaw set stubbornly. "If he touches you…"

"I don't think he'll hurt me," I told him as he stepped away from the bed. Kenny turned back slightly, his head tilted to show that he was listening.

"He wrecked his room instead of me." I said, my words slurring slightly. "I think he likes me still." I blushed faintly, but I knew it was true. Else I wouldn't be here…

A look of realization crossed Kenny's face as he turned back around and stared at me. Finally he leaned down and grasped my shoulder. "I'll see you at school on Monday?" He said. "You will be there, right Kyle?" There was a hint of desperation in his voice.

I managed a nod. "I will be at school Kenny." I said softly, smiling. I hoped.

I don't remember him leaving my side, though I assume he must have some time after I felt back to sleep.

When I woke up again reality set in with considerable difficulty. Yet again I was horribly confused for a while at where the hell I was. When it finally processed, all of it, sneaking into his room with the gun, falling asleep in his bed, Kenny waking me up, it seemed almost impossible. I couldn't possibly still be, alive for one and in his bed for another… could I?

I could. Because I could see him, over by his desk, which was now right side up and he seemed to be working on putting his computer back together.

I sat up, blinking in the early morning light streaming in from his window. "Cartman?" I questioned groggily.

He barely looked at me, intent he was on his computer. "Mom made you breakfast." He grunted. "It's on the table there." He made a vague hand motion at something off to my side.

Sure enough there was a tray on the bedside table. I could see an empty tray beside it. He had obviously already ate.

I was starving… and I felt guilty as I reached out and took the tray. I couldn't help but to remember how close I came to hurting Ms. Cartman the night before by killing her son.

I wondered if the gun was still outside.

My mind drifted as I ate. A thousand questions flooded through my mind. I raised my head a bit and watched as he worked at reconnecting the cords to the back of his computer, brow furrowed in concentration. He actually could be considered handsome I supposed, except for his stubbornly upturned nose, which reflected his stubborn personality. I smiled slightly to myself as I returned my attention to the food. God, Cartman's mom cooked amazingly well.

My smile faded as quickly as it came as I chewed. What was I doing anyway? Hanging out at the house of my enemy? Didn't he just sleep with Wendy a week ago? Even if it was a one night stand… the thought still hurt…

Then again I had agreed to date Stan. It wasn't like we were in a relationship… like we were_ ever_ in a relationship.

Wendy could take care of herself I realized. She is one of the most stubborn people I know. If Stan had any reason to think that Cartman had raped her, he would have said so. But his words from two days ago came back to me. "Cartman had sex with Wendy." I had instantly seen her as a victim. But she wasn't was she? Cartman said she wanted it and I had no reason to not believe him. Especially since he said it when I had a gun pointed to his forehead… pretty good motivation to not bullshit.

God damn I had totally let my plans get hijacked didn't I? He should be dead right now. I should be dead. I would be dead, if it weren't for him…

I looked up across the room at him again. He was sitting at his computer desk now, a look of concentration on his face as he peered at his computer screen. I owed him at least a thanks. For what… there were a couple things. He had shared a bed with me last night without molesting me for one… but the fact that he cared enough to give me a place to stay… I really wasn't looking forwards to going home and facing my mother…

"Cartman?" I asked cautiously as I put the food tray aside.

He sounded slightly irritated at being interrupted. "What?" He snapped.

"I…" I was going to say how grateful I was that he took me in and all that after I tried to kill him, but my bravo died when I saw that he was annoyed. "Cartman… thanks." I said as sincerely as I could.

He just looked at me. At least the expression on his face softened somewhat.

I moved to get off the bed. "Anyway. I need to go home and take my pills." I said, flushing somewhat. "I didn't take them yesterday and…"

He made a disgusted noise. "What, the pills that make you want to kill yourself?" He said flippantly.

I stared at him for a moment or so. "They're for depression," I said finally, wondering if he really was that dumb.

No, he wasn't dumb, he was choosing to be an ass. "They seem to be working well," He said sarcastically, folding his arms across his chest.

I heaved a sigh and shut my eyes. "I know… I know." I replied, slightly frustrated. "They're supposed to work eventually though."

"If you managed to kill yourself last night eventually would have never happened." He said in that annoying I know better than you voice of his. He wasn't going to let up, was he?

And to make it even worse was he was right. God damn it. "I don't want to talk about this." I said through gritted teeth, beginning to get defensive.

"No Kyle." He snapped. "How about we _do_ talk about this. Because you know, I enjoy having a fucking gun pointed at my head."

I stared at him, a little scared now at the venom he put behind those words.

He stalked towards the bed, his eyes narrowed. He got really close to me, enough that I had to lean back away from him. "Cartman!" I started, alarmed.

He snorted slightly and leaned back again, his hands on his hips. "So you gonna tell me why you decided to stay here numbnuts?" He said. "Kenny said you didn't want to leave."

My tongue darted out to lick at dry lips. "I don't know…" I fumbled out. I did know, I just felt too fucking intimidated to tell him anything. I wanted him to get back on the other side of the room NOW.

He raised an eyebrow. Slowly but surely a smirk crawled across his face. "You don't know." He repeated.

I stared at him… or rather at his smirk. That couldn't be good….

He leaned down again and pushed back on my shoulder, face inches away from mine. "I think you do know Ky-al," He spoke softly but deadly and drawled my name out. His mouth was literally an inch away from mine as he spoke and I gasped, my breath quickening. "I think you know and you're not telling me…" His hand left my shoulder to trail down my arm. Slowly. And he leaned in even closer… if I leaned further back I was going to fall back on the bed…

"S-stop…" I whispered, slightly horrified at my own reactions to how close he was. Fuck, my heart was pounding… and it wasn't the only thing that was reacting…

He leaned past me, so that his mouth was now inches away from my ear… neck. "Stop what Kyle?" He whispered.

I fell back on the bed with a tiny little squeak of surprise.

He took that as an open invitation and crawled on the bed as well. Soon I had him kneeling above me with his hands planted on either side of my head, smirk still firmly in place as he inspected me out of narrowed eyes that looked like they belonged to a catlike predator, not a human being.

I drew my arms up to my chest protectively.

"C-cartman?" I began cautiously.

He leaned down again. "You never told me what I was supposed to stop Kyle." He said, still smirking. I swallowed as that mouth got really close to my own. "Well, what was it?" He asked in a deep silky whisper.

I couldn't handle this. It was too much like when Stan was doing this… or he was back when… when everything was empty and hollow and oh god I couldn't believe he was trying to seduce me, except I could, and I also knew it would just be another bought of pointless empty sex…

"I hate you!" I whispered, my voice cracking. I shut my eyes so I didn't have to see him and curled away from him. He lifted his arm and let me go. I merely buried my head in my arms and shut my eyes tightly, drawing my knees up into my chest. I knew I was shaking and I was trying as hard as I could to not do so.

A large warm hand touched my shoulder. "Kyle," He said with concern in his voice. I squeezed my eyes tighter shut still. Now all I could think about how his voice was deeper than Stan's, and rumbly, thanks to his body weight I suppose. A shudder went though me, shaking my entire body.

"I'm sorry." I heard him say finally when enough time had passed. "Kyle." His voice took on a tiny bit of a whiny edge. "I didn't mean to scare you Kyle." Now both hands were on my shoulder as he shook me slightly. "I won't hurt you, I told you that yesterday."

My fear bled into anger at his words. I uncurled by degrees, and glared up at him. "You ignored me for 3 months and then you think I'd just let you do whatever to me?" I demanded to know.

He looked guilty for half a second before his eyes narrowed. He let go of my shoulder. "I could just do whatever to you if I wanted," He snapped back. "Keep in mind that I didn't." He turned his back to me, now obviously sulking.

I stared at the ceiling for a moment. Fuck. This was so fucking messed up…

He heaved a sigh suddenly, which called my attention to his backside. "I can't do this." He said finally.

"What do you mean?" I asked tiredly, sitting up.

He was silent for a couple seconds before he spoke again. "I can't control myself around you anymore," He ground out.

I just looked at his back. "But you did control yourself." I pointed out.

He turned around again, glaring at me angrily. "Do you have ANY IDEA AT ALL," He began, his voice low and dangerous. He leaned closer to me. "How close I came right to just flipping you over and fucking you in that cute little Semitic ass of yours?"

I flinched and leaned away from him as he was way to close. He stared at me for a couple more seconds, eyes searching my face then swore again and turned back around. He got off the bed.

I stared at him as he went back to his computer. "Get out of my room Kyle." He ordered, his voice brisk and cold.

I frowned as I moved to the corner of the bed. "Cartman…" I began.

He gripped his keyboard and suddenly wrenched it up and out of the computer. "GET OUT!" He screamed, throwing it at me.

I ducked and covered my head in my arms as the keyboard clattered against the wall behind me.

When I looked back up again he sat at his computer desk, staring at nothing, his hands balled into fists.

He was trying to protect me. It came to me as a stunned realization. He was trying to protect me from himself in the only way he knew how. Which included flipping out and throwing things at me.

I also realized as I sat there then slowly stood, that this was one of those proverbial moments in ones life. Or in my case extended life, since I wasn't supposed to be alive right now. I could leave. Go home and face the music and get grounded and put on 25 hour a day supervision for trying to commit suicide. That actually would happen anyway BUT if I went home right now, Cartman would go back to ignoring me and nothing would change...

… Or I dealt with this right now. Accept the consequences of my actions. I may get fucked, bruised, bloody and beaten, but then at least I'd _know_…

I silently walked across the room towards him. He sat at his desk chair and did nothing as I approached. I put an arm around his shoulders, then drew the other arm around his front. He was shaking very slightly, I could feel the tremors against my arm.

"Eric…" I whispered. I knelt down and placed my forehead against his chest, rethreading my arms around his midsection. I bit my lip and closed my eyes, expecting to be hit or at least violently pushed away.

For a long moment he did nothing. Then suddenly he pulled me closer, hands clenched in the fabric of my shirt and jammed his head into my shoulder. He shook a little bit harder as he hugged me to himself, his breathing heavy and strained. He may have been crying, though knowing him probably not. Either way I drew one of my hands up higher and patted him on the back soothingly. "It's okay." I whispered. "It's okay."

He grunted, but didn't say anything.

We remained that way for only a couple seconds more when there was a loud knock at the bedroom door.

"Eric dearest," It was Cartman's mom and she sounded worried, which merely meant that she sounded a little less dotting and motherly than usual. "Kyle's mom just drove up to the house, honey, I think it's time for Kyle to go home now…"

She was interrupted by the sound of the doorbell and loud rapping on the front door that we could hear all the way up the stairs.

I pulled away from him. "Shit." I swore.

He raised his head and looked at me. It was strange. He actually looked a little lost as his eyes searched mine.

I managed a small smile. "Sorry," I apologized. "I've got to go." I stood and quickly looked the room over for my jacket.

He stood as well, watching me as I found it and dug it out from beneath a wayward pile of crap.

"Kyle?" He asked.

"Yeah?" I replied as I tugged on my jacket.

He hesitated for half a second before stepping forwards and grabbing me by the sides of the face and pulling me in for a bruising kiss. For a moment I was startled then I relaxed, opening my mouth with a small 'ah'. He deepened the kiss. I wrapped my arms around him, suddenly not caring about the pounding on the door, the yelling voices… the pounding of feet up the stairs… any of it… only the feel of him against me as one of his hands threaded into my hair, his mouth against mine, warm, wet, the way he tasted and how I just wanted this one tiny moment to last forever…

The sound of the bedroom door crashing open and my mother's screech interrupted it all.  
"ERIC THEODORE CARTMAN JUST WHAT THE HELL DO YOU THINK YOU'RE DOING TO MY SON?"

-


	11. Recovering

**Author's Notes** : Sorry this took so long. Really really sorry. It was mostly written in February and then I got sidelined with life and work. And then in March I got back into my old TMNT fandom and, well, that was the end of that.

Most of this got rewritten over a couple (dozen) times, the general gist of the original draft is there… :P

**Disclaimer** : Before you read this I want to say something I should have said when I first started writing this. I absolutely do not condone sex without using a condom even though I don't write about these fictional characters using them. Look at it this way… if one of the boys who raped Kyle in the first chapter had a STD, he gave it to Kyle, which Cartman would have gotten and gave to Wendy. If Wendy got back together with Stan, Stan now has it too. If that STD was a potentially fatal one like, oh say, AIDS, they all have it now (and AIDS is only funny if you don't have it, which Matt and Trey obviously don't). Even if you're a girl taking birth control so he won't give you pregnancy, make him use a condom anyway to prevent other nasties from getting through. nods And I'm sure you hear this from everyone, just had to add my comments.

Whew! Sorry for the cliff hanger on the last part! Enjoy this next bit!

-  
Chapter 11  
Recovering  
-

_Kyle's Point of View_

"ERIC THEODORE CARTMAN JUST WHAT THE HELL DO YOU THINK YOU'RE DOING TO MY SON?"

Cartman jerked away from me. I stared mutely at where my Mom stood on the threshold of Cartman's room, red faced and furious, and at the same time felt Cartman's hold on me tighten. "I 'm keeping him alive bitch!" He snapped at her.

What, with artificial resuscitation? I turned my head back and looked at him. He was glaring at my mother, his jaw set stubbornly.

I couldn't help it. I let out a little snort of laughter and started to giggle.

He turned his head and looked down at me, a confused expression on his face. He couldn't figure out what I found so funny.

My mom certainly didn't think it was very funny. "Come here Kyle." She said, her voice angry. I knew that tone. I didn't want to move. I actually cringed a bit as she stomped into the room. Surprisingly, as soon as she started to move Cartman grabbed my arm and hauled me behind himself, then stood between us.

"Don't touch him." He said threateningly.

Huh? I stared at the back of his head, my giggles gone. He couldn't stop my mom from doing anything…

Mom glowered up at him, and for the first time I realized he had outgrown her in height. Maybe he _could_ stop her from doing something…

"Get out of my way!" She shouted. She looked over his shoulder at me. "Kyle, _come here_."

I started to walk around Cartman when he put his elbow out slightly to block my way. "He's not a fucking dog bitch," He said irritably. "He's your son. You can't just order him to do whatever you want him to do."

Oh no.

Mom's jaw dropped and she sputtered a bit. Ms. Cartman had begun to wring her hands at the entrance to the room. "Eric honey…" She began.

Cartman merely raised his voice. "He's a fucking human being, not your god damned pet!"

"How DARE you!" Mom stopped being too shocked to say anything and slapped him. Hard. The sound resounded throughout the room. I saw that coming a mile away, but apparently Cartman didn't by the way his head snapped to the side.

He brought his head back around slowly and Mom actually took a step back. He must have been giving her a menacing psycho look or something.

I thought for sure he was going to go crazy and hit her or something or at very least yell at her, but instead his next question was directed at me.

"Kyle." He said very softly and deliberately. "Last night you said you didn't want to go home. You don't have to if you don't want to."

I realized then what he was doing. He was helping me deal with my life like he had promised. If I said I didn't want to go home I had no doubt in my mind that he would chase Mom right out of the house and keep me here until she called the cops on him and they forcibly removed me… I swallowed and shook my head. I should go home.

"I - I'd better go dude." I said in a small voice.

He didn't stop the little stare down he had going with my mom, but he nodded once sharply and moved aside slightly. I stepped by him. When I did he caught hold of my arm briefly and looked me in the eye. "Will you be okay?" He asked in a low voice.

I nodded. "Yeah." I lied.

He eyed me for a second more, then let go of my arm. He went back to glaring at my mom while I quickly grabbed my shoes. Now it was my mom's turn to grab my arm as she proceeded to haul me from the room and down the stairs.

"Mom let me go!" I whined, twisting at the grip she had on my arm.

She glared at me angrily and let me go.

"Mrs. Broflovski," Cartman's voice drifted down the stairs at us as we got to the foyer.

Mom turned around. Cartman stood near the top of the stairs, leaning against the wall casually with his arms folded across his chest. "Kyle would be dead right now if it wasn't for me." He said.

He must have been referring to when he took the gun away the night before.

"You horrible boy!" My mom shouted at him. "My Kyle would be dead right now _because _of you!"

I didn't want to get in the middle of a fight between Cartman and my Mom. They had a fairly long history of hatred about 100 times worse than Cartman and I. "Mom!" I snapped, pushing open the front door. "Let's go!"

She did so, thank God. Mom turned around and left the house in a huff. I followed her, affording one last glance behind myself to see Cartman still standing there against the wall, a small smirk on his face. He knew he had won that round, he had succeeded at pissing off and intimidating my Mom.

His face grew serious when he saw I was looking back at him. He didn't scowl at me or anything, rather his brow furrowed and he looked a bit worried.

As soon as we were on the side walk, Mom took my arm again and pulled me close. "I've never been so embarrassed in my life." She said to me. "What the hell were you thinking Kyle?"

I shrugged and yanked my arm back as she opened the backdoor of the car. I got in.

Dad was in the car too, he did the driving and didn't say anything beyond an "Are you okay?" at me when I first climbed in the backseat.

"I will be." I replied, lying again.

I tried to ignore my mom as she sat in the front seat and described in intimate detail what exactly she had walked in on, how scandalized she was and how horrible it was to see me with that awful boy again.

"Well, I could have killed him instead." I piped up from the back.

That got mom on an "I thought I raised you better than that" tirade. I went back to looking out the window again, wishing desperately I could tune out her voice.

It was over quicker you would think because I only live about 2 and a half blocks away from the Cartman's house.

I ran inside, intending to escape up into my room when Dad stopped me. "Kyle, we need to have a talk," He called out from behind me.

My grip tightened on the stairway banister. "Do we have to?" I asked a bit plaintively.

Dad stepped into the house and took off his shoes. "Yes." He replied.

"Oh this is absolutely horrible, how could my son do this to me?" Mom was still wailing from behind him.

"Can I just talk to you?" I asked in a low voice, already knowing the answer.

"I can't believe this is happening to my family!" Mom continued over me.

My dad rolled his eyes ever so slightly, which he could get away with since his back was turned to her. "No." He replied.

"Damn." I muttered. "Alright, give me a sec to get my meds." My reasoning for continuing to take the damn things was because I knew that I was addicted to them and going off of them cold turkey would not be good. It also helped me escape the talk for a couple minutes. I walked into the kitchen and grabbed the pills and a glass of water. Mom walked into the room after me dabbing her eyes as she did so. "Have you eaten anything bubbe?" She asked, sniffling.

"Ms. Cartman fed me," I said tersely, downing the drugs. I returned the cup I used to the counter top with a thump and I glowered at her a bit as I walked by her. I went and sat down in the big comfortable chair in the corner of the living room with a large sigh. I drew my legs up to my chest and put my arms around them.

Dad had gone upstairs and Mom was doing something in the kitchen, leaving me alone in the living room for a short bit. Ike chose that moment to poke his head into the room. "Kyle?" He questioned.

I smiled at him. For once I wasn't pissed off at him for anything. "Hey Ike," I said, unraveling to hold out my arms to him. Even though he was like 9 and starting to get uncomfortable with affection he still came over and gave me a hug.

"Dude you should have heard Mom before they left to get you." He whispered once he pulled away. His eyes were wide. He snuck a conspiring look towards the kitchen to make sure Mom wasn't listening in, than looked back at me. "You really scared her. She thought you were dead."

I shrugged, pretending not to care. I turned to look back out the window. That's why I heard rather than saw Dad come into the living room. "Hey Ike, could you give Mom and Dad and your brother some privacy?" He asked the boy.

I glanced back at him. Ike nodded and went upstairs, looking back at me as he did so. I had no doubt that he was going to hang out on the upstairs landing and listen to the entire thing.

Mom came into the room, handkerchief still in hand and sat beside Dad on the couch. Great. I looked out the window again.

Dad spoke first. "Kyle," He began quietly. "Why didn't you tell us about this?" He asked, gesturing to the note.

I considered all the alternatives of just not having this conversation before deciding it just wasn't worth it and that I should make this as quick and as painless as possible. I sighed. "Because you would have stopped me," I muttered.

"Bubbe, we would have gotten you the help you needed!" My mom shrilled.

I just looked at her. "Like I need more help." I said sarcastically.

Mom's face contorted. "How are we supposed to _help you_ Kyle?" She demanded to know, loudly.

"Sheila, hold on a second," Dad tried to calm her. He turned back to me, with the note still in hand. I eyed it.

"Kyle we need to know who you were talking about at the bottom of the note. Were you planning to do something to Eric Cartman?"

I considered again, but decided there wasn't any point in lying. I shrugged. "I was going to kill him." I said.

Mom made horrible gasping noises but Dad just looked pensive. I'm sure his lawyer brain was processing that in the most analytical way possible. "How were you planning to kill him, Kyle?" He asked deliberately.

I shrugged again. "Same way I was planning on killing myself. With a gun." I suppressed a smile at the horrified looks on my parents faces. If they knew I was amused by their reactions I'd get into even more trouble.

Dad recovered first. Mom was still sputtering. "Kyle, where did you get the gun?" He asked gently.

"Does it matter?" I replied, shrugging again. "I couldn't shoot him, I couldn't shoot myself, and then Cartman took the gun away so I couldn't even try anymore."

There was silence. I studied them both. Mom was crying and Dad was trying very hard not to look shocked. He finally cleared his throat and continued. "And what happened after that Kyle? Was he upset?" I guess he wanted to handle the conversation professionally or something, like he would his clients at work.

I stared at him. Why did it matter if Cartman was upset or not? It wasn't like he didn't deserve it…

"I guess…" I replied. "Why?"

Him and my mom exchanged looks. "Bubbe why did you spend the night with him?" She asked, new tears flowing down her cheeks.

"Because I didn't feel like coming home," I returned. "And he offered a place to stay, so I took it."

"So you let that boy do whatever he wanted to you?"

Oh so THAT was what this was all about. I actually laughed out loud, a quick abrasive sound. "**_Not_** that it's any concern of yours, we didn't do anything last night except sleep." I said coolly.

"You were kissing him when I got there!" Mom exclaimed.

"I can kiss whoever I want!" I snapped at her.

"But why him?" Mom wailed. "That horrible boy has a Swastika poster on his wall!"

Huh. I knew about that poster, I've seen it time and time again, but the funny thing is is I didn't even notice it last night. I shook my head. "He's always had posters like that Mom." I said matter of factly. This wasn't new or anything.

"You're in love with a boy who wants to kill you and your people!" Mom yelled.

Oh boy. I pinched my nose and shut my eyes tightly. Here we went with the race thing again… how many times had we been over this in the last 5 years? Yes I know Cartman's anti-Semitic, tell me something I don't know!

"Now Sheila…" Dad had started.

Mom ignored him. "He's already shot you!"

I let go of my nose. "That was an accident!" I shouted at her. "He was trying to shoot Stan, who's not Jewish last time I checked!" I couldn't believe I was defending Cartman, but my Mom brought it out in me.

"And that makes it better!" Mom stood up. "Just tell me WHY THAT BOY?"

"Maybe because he's the only person who doesn't treat me like I'm a fucking invalid!" I stood as well.

Dad was tugging on Mom's arm. "Sheila," He began again.

Mom turned on him. "Don't 'Sheila' me Gerald, our son is going to get himself killed!"

"I already tried that," I pointed out.

"Now Kyle…" Dad gave me a sorta disapproving look before turned back to Mom. "If he's involved with Kyle I'm sure he's not going to kill him," He tried logically. "You're over reacting…"

"Over reacting!" Mom shouted. "Kyle nearly died twice because of that boy!"

I had had enough. I threw my arms wide. "I nearly died _because_ of _you_!" I shouted. "Now I know it's hard for you to understand this, but I'm GAY! That means I like BOYS not GIRLS. And I was SLEEPING with Eric BEFORE he shot me. And you know what sucks about it? I let him because I was too afraid that you two," I gestured at them both. "Would find out that I was gay! Well now you do and UNFORTUNATELY FOR YOU, you don't get to CHOOSE who **_I_** decide to FALL IN LOVE WITH!" I paused and drew quick breath through my teeth.  
My parents just stared at me in stunned silence as I finished. "I hate you both!" I shouted. "All you ever do is try to control my life but you never ever ask me what **_I_** want!" With that I stormed from the room and up the stairs, noticing and not caring that Ike beat a hasty retreat to his room as I did so.

I slammed my door shut behind myself and sighed, shutting my eyes as I slid down it to sit on the floor. My life sucked. And now I was going to be grounded for life. I put my head in my arms.

To make matters worse I could still hear the sound of my mom arguing with my dad in the living room. I groaned softly and got to my feet, trekking over to my bed and flopping down on it. Fuck… I needed to escape. Already. And I had just gotten home…

Unfortunately it was about 5 minutes later when my Dad knocked on the bedroom door. I groaned softly and sat up in bed. "Yeah?" I called out.

"Hey Kyle." Dad spoke through the door. "Your mom and I talked and… well… we want you to know that we love you no matter what, alright son?"

I pulled a face. For a long while I considered not answering him.

Finally when I didn't hear him move away I sighed and forced myself to say something. "Alright." I grumbled, flopping back down on the bed.

"A-and… if you ever need anything, we want to you feel free to talk to us." He continued earnestly. "And we know that you can be around whoever you want to Kyle, we're just concerned for you that's all. But from now on, we'll let you decide who you want to be- uh…" He cleared his throat. "With. Okay?"

I stared at the ceiling. "Fine." I replied shortly. I shut my eyes tightly and rolled onto my side and tried to force my brain to turn off. Once again I wished I was dead… but the feeling soon left, as everything faded into a bit of a dulled misery.

I only came out of my room again at around noon to eat something. Mom appeared to have recovered… the only thing she told me is that they were going to find me a new counselor.

Thank god. I replied that hopefully the new one wouldn't be retarded. A week ago I wouldn't have been able to get away with saying something like that. Now my parents shared significant glances and didn't reply.

I went back to my room and actually tried to study after lunch, determined to make the most of my extended life. At around one in the afternoon my cellphone rang.

It was Kenny. "Hey Kyle." He greeted. "How you doing?"

"I'm okay." I replied gloomily.

"How's home life?" He asked.

"Same as usual." I replied. When he didn't say anything, I continued. "Mom freaked out."

"Ah." Kenny said. "Otherwise things are okay?"

"I guess." I replied.

There was a pause. Then Kenny cleared his throat nervously and the pause lengthened, which told me something was up.

"What's wrong?" I asked, sitting up a little straighter.

"Uh… nothing much Kyle. Just…" He hesitated then let it out all at once. "I told Stan." He said quickly.

I clenched the phone a little tighter. I was hoping to avoid the Stan knowing thing for… oh, ever. "Come on Kenny." I groaned. "It's been less than 12 hours!"

"I know, I know. I'm sorry." Kenny replied, sounding repentant.

I rubbed my forehead with exasperation. "What did you tell-" I started to ask, but was interrupted by the sound of the doorbell downstairs. "Dude! Did he say he was coming over?" I exclaimed.

"Uh, yeah…" Was Kenny's reply. "I told him not to but he kinda took off…"

"Fuck." I swore and shut the phone with a snap. I so did not want to deal with Stan right then…

Sure enough two minutes later and after a brief exchange of conversation with my mom I heard a knock on my bedroom door.

"Kyle?" Stan's worried sounding voice drifted through the door.

I rolled over, grabbed a pillow and put it over my face. "What?" I called out, my voice muffled.

"Can I come in?" He sounded half panicked and I heard him rattle the knob a bit, stopping just short of coming in without my permission.

I sat up slowly, placing the pillow aside. "I guess."

The door wrenched open and in he came, looking frantic. The relief on his face was tangible when he saw me sitting on the bed. I probably appeared fairly normal, despite the rough night.

He came right up to me and sat beside me on the bed. I got the impression he was about to hug me before he stopped himself and just sat there, hands clasped into fists in his lap. "Dude, I'm glad you're okay." He said. He smiled a sad little smile and carefully brushed a lock of black hair out of his eyes. He shook his head. "Kenny told me not to come but I had to make sure you were alive and well. You know?" The sad smile turned strained as his eyes met mine. "Kyle?"

I studied him. "What did Kenny say?" I asked.

Stan's brow furrowed. Now he looked everywhere but at me. "He…" He stopped, then continued in a very quiet voice. "He said you tried to kill yourself."

Of course he did. I shut my eyes briefly.

"And that you tried to kill Cartman as well?" Now he looked back at me. There was a questioning expression on his face.

I drew in a breath and let it out slowly. "Yeah." I said finally.

For the longest moment he sat there and studied me. Then a tiny smile twitched at the corner of his mouth. "Did you succeed?"

I blinked. Then smiled back at him, which was a surprise for me just as much as it was for him. For some reason I found that funny. "No." I replied, the smile breaking into an all out grin. "Almost."

An expression of raw relief crossed his face when he saw me smile. He broke, the tension bleeding from his form as he leaned forwards, grinning back at me. "Damn," He said and I let out a little laugh, drawing him into a hug. He came with ease, wrapping lanky arms around me and holding me tightly.

"You scared me." He whispered into my hair when enough time had passed.

I nodded into his shirt. "I'm sorry," I mumbled. I raised my head a bit and continued. "Dude, we need to talk." I said firmly.

He nodded in agreement. "Whatever you want Kyle." He replied. "I'll try my best to listen alright?" His vivid blue eyes met mine again and I knew that he meant it. It was strange feeling safe enough to talk to Stan for the first time in how many months.

And talk we did, for about three hours straight. I told him everything, how I felt the night before, how I didn't want to go on anymore. I told him how I felt he wasn't a very good friend for not listening to me, how I felt angry about what he did at his parents house. He broke down then, and yet again I got to witness the marvelous sight of Stan crying. He told me he didn't know what to do, that he cared about me and didn't know how to stop me from deconstructing.

I reached out and put a hand on his shoulder. "You don't." I said. "Only I can do that."

For the first time I think I saw understanding in his eyes. "Are you going to do that?" He asked with painful hope.

I was silent for a long time before replying. "I'm going to try." I said honestly.

The last part of the conversation was the part he had the most amount of trouble with. I told him to leave Cartman alone now, because right now I needed to know I could hang around him if I wanted to. For a split second defiant anger flashed in his eyes before he looked away again.

"Stan?" I questioned.

He bit his lip and studied the floor before turning his attention to the wall. He wouldn't look at me. "Kyle…" He said finally in a very quiet voice. "He left you to die."

I didn't expect it, but that caused a small chill to sweep through me. "I know." I replied softly.

He looked up at me, studying my face. "I don't…" He made a face. "I don't understand." He said finally.

I shook my head slowly. "I don't know if I really do either." I said. I gave him a very serious look. "But Stan, he's changed. Look. Last night I pointed a gun at him and tried to shoot him and he let me stay the night at his house and didn't even touch me. He kissed me this morning." I blushed furiously but pressed on. "And I could tell he meant it. He even told my mom off for me, told her I didn't have to go home if I didn't want to. I don't think he's the same person as he was in the fall."

Stan was silent during my entire talk. When I was done he studied my face for a long while before making a face of his own and looking away. "I guess that that's it then." He said finally.

"What is?" I asked.

He got off the bed and managed a small wry smile before growing serious. "I'll try my best to be supportive and shit, but Kyle," He crouched down suddenly so he was eyelevel with me and so I could see the worry and concern in his eyes. "If I see him fuck with you in any way…"

"I know, I know." I interrupted him. I reached out suddenly, taking one of his hands and squeezing it. "But even if you just _try_ to get along…"

Stan nodded slowly. "I'll try." He said, finally, reluctantly. I knew he didn't want to, but the effort was appreciated.

I supposed I just had to wait until Monday to see if he'd be true to his word.

After Stan left I spent the next day and a half bored to death. My parents had reverted back to their regular small talk avoidance kind of thing, especially my Mom. The only way I could tell the last day even happened was by the way they stuck their heads in my room every couple hours or so at night to check to see if I was still there.

Besides that I picked at the food Mom made me and tried my best to study. Like usual the words blurred but it wasn't like I had anything better to do than reread my text over and over again.

Briefly I considered sneaking out for an hour and visiting Cartman, then decided against it. I'd see him at school on Monday anyway. And wasn't **_that_** going to be fun. Despite my talk with Stan I was still nervous as hell about how the entire thing would go over. I was also afraid that Cartman would just go back to ignoring me, though that would stop the potential fight between him and Stan…

I watched and waited tensely as Cartman came ambling up to the bus stop that morning.

Stan stood next to me. My former best friend had walked up to the bus stop as usual, said hey, he was glad to see me and smiled. He was not quite as hovering as he used to, standing a half a foot further away than normal. I saw him tense visibly as Cartman approached. Cartman eyed Stan as well.

He stopped a couple feet away from the two of us, his eyes still glued to Stan. "Hey." He said.

"Hello." Stan greeted coolly.

They eyed each other for a couple more seconds. Then Cartman turned his attention to me.

"How you doing Kyle?" Cartman asked.

Now both Stan and Cartman were looking at me.

I pulled a face. "Fine." I said, suddenly feeling defensive and self conscious that they were staring at me.

"Your bitch Mom wasn't too hard to deal with I hope?" Cartman was being civil.

"She was like her usual self. Ranted a lot." I sighed. "I'm used to it."

"Ah." He walked around so that he stood on the other side of me, giving me about as much distance as Stan was.

I shifted from foot to foot. We were silent until the bus approached. Kenny came running up to catch it at the last possible second.

"Hey Kyle, how you doing?" He greeted breathlessly as he climbed onto the bus behind me.

"Fine." I replied, rolling my eyes slightly. This was going to be a trend wasn't it?

Sure enough- "Good to see you." Kenny whacked me on the back good-naturedly.

Once we boarded, Stan sat beside me after a brief question of if it was okay. Of course it was, we had been sitting together for about 10 years.

Surprisingly Cartman went over to where Wendy was sitting and called her ho a couple of times until she let him sit beside her. It didn't even faze me that Cartman managed to get Wendy to move over and share her seat by insulting her. She didn't seem too happy about it either.

The only person who seemed somewhat shocked by the entire exchange was Stan who sat with his mouth hanging open as he stared at the back of their heads. When he saw me looking at him he clamped his jaw shut and slouched down in his seat. "I have no idea what you guys see in him," He grumbled, half to himself.

I shrugged. "He's not that bad." I said. That was a lie, and I knew it. Cartman was still a horrible bastard despite his feelings for me and there was nothing much I could do about it. I shifted my gaze out of the bus and watched the scenery as it whipped by.

Now Stan muttered something about me being unbalanced under his breath, which actually made me smile a bit to myself. For some reason Stan being pissed at me about me being involved with Cartman was considerably more enjoyable then having him be worried about me all the time.

It hit me like a ton of bricks that I actually found something amusing enough to smile about. That was the first time in a couple months that that had happened. I spent the rest of the bus ride to school shocked and happy at this little revelation.

It was hard to believe that my life went from intolerable to actually somewhat good in the space of a couple of days. It was almost like trying to kill Cartman and failing had taken a huge weight off of my shoulders. I found out I couldn't murder someone and I also found out that he cared about me at least somewhat. I was okay with both of those things. Mom had agreed to get me a new counselor, things were looking up! I still felt really tired, but Stan was grumpy at me since the bus that morning, which was a welcome relief, and I really didn't want to die anymore anyway. For one, dying was waaay to much work.

I was a bit curious to find out how Cartman would deal with lunch and was both impressed and a little bit scared when he came over to sit with us. This was a territorial issue and I was afraid that Stan would break his promise to me on Saturday.

Cartman sat across the table from both me and Stan, like there was absolutely nothing out of the ordinary about this.

Stan stared at him with his mouth hanging open. He shut it finally. "What the hell do you think you're doing?" He asked.

Cartman looked up from his sandwich. "Eating?" He replied.

Stan sighed loudly. "Cartman you just can't come back here and sit with us! You didn't even ASK if it was okay!"

Shit. I glared at him out of the corner of my eye.

Cartman raised an eyebrow as he chewed and swallowed the food that was in his mouth. He then turned his attention to me. "Kyle," He asked in a very nice polite voice. "May I please sit at this table an' eat my lunch with you?"

I blinked and cringed a bit, knowing that everyone was looking at me now, not just Stan, but Kenny, Butters and Heidi as well.

It took me a moment to reply because I was fidgeting self consciously. It was a moment too long because Cartman shoved off from the table suddenly. "I'll go." He announced.

"No." I replied. I looked up.

He looked down at me with one eyebrow raised. I felt an odd thrill hit my stomach. Like I was going to be sick. I swallowed. "It's okay Cartman." I said. "You can stay if you want." I shrugged quickly, pretending that this wasn't affecting me at all. "I don't care."

Cartman gave me a cryptic look, then glanced at Stan before relenting. "Only if you want me to Ky-al." He said, sitting down again heavily.

I snuck a glance at Stan to see how he was dealing with this. He looked a little bit hurt and angry but he looked away as soon as he saw me looking at him. "Whatever," He muttered, returning to his food.

I expected more problems, but amazingly there wasn't. Occasionally Cartman would offer me food, which I turned down politely. He got frustrated at that, and told me I needed to eat or I'd die. Then he corrected himself by quickly saying that he didn't care if my Jew ass starved to death, which everyone, including Stan I'm sure, could see was a front.

Stan sulked for the rest of the lunch, though he sulked a little bit less after Cartman told me to eat.

Wendy came trekking over near the end of lunch. She looked us all over. "Oh thank god you guys managed to work out your differences," She said, rolling her eyes.

"Barely." Cartman replied, getting to his feet. "See you later Kyle." He said deliberately, which made Stan grit his teeth. With that he turned and ambled off.

The rest of the day passed without much excitement or anything of the like. I left the lunch room soon after Cartman to leave a very grumpy pissed off Stan talking with his ex. I actually felt a bit sorry for Wendy then. Stan wasn't nice to her during their breakup periods and I don't imagine that they were getting along any better now in the aftermath of her and Cartman sleeping together.

The only surprise I got was in Social Studies class, which I shared with both Stan and Cartman. Cartman decided to sit beside me, which he did by threatening Butters out of his usual spot beside me and switching him places. So now I had Stan on one side and Cartman on the other. It ended up being excellent because they both decided to pretend the other didn't exist, which meant they basically ignored me as well.

We got an assignment that day… a week long research assignment on some social issue that plagued people in our State. I was relieved. If anything I could pull information on social issues out of my ass and be accurate about them too… no studying needed.

At the very end of class when we were getting out of our seats Cartman bumped into me. He didn't do it in a mean way either, I could tell by the pleasant "Sorry about that Kyle," and genuine smile he gave me before leaving the room. I stared at his backside as he left, my throat suddenly dry.

I saw out of the corner of my eye Stan shake his head. At least he kept his comments to himself… he really**_ was_** trying. Thank god.

At 6 o'clock that night Kenny showed up on my doorstep. I found out then that my parents had planned to go to a dinner function in Denver without telling either me OR Ike.

Apparently Kenny was over to babysit. Which was total bullshit, I could babysit Ike just as easily as Kenny could. He was here to keep a suicide watch on me or something.

My Dad said it was about helping Kenny out because his family didn't have a lot of money.

Kenny wasted no time finding a bag of chips and some sodapop before settling in on the couch in front of the TV. I rolled my eyes. "I'll be in my room." I announced.

"'Kay!" Kenny said through a mouthful of chips.

As soon as I got there I stood against the door for a couple moments, considering.

I decided with a small nod. I went to my window and pulled it open.

I didn't know how I was going to sneak into his house… I had a feeling his mom might try to call my parents if I came through the front door. My situation was resolved for me when I saw the ladder was still along the side of his house, half buried in snow.

For a long moment I stood along the side of his house considering his bedroom window. The light was on yes, but it was only around 6:30, there was no way he'd be in bed yet. I also wasn't here to kill him…

I did a quick look around for the gun but couldn't find it. He probably hid that after Friday night…

Sighing, I picked up the ladder and placed it against the house siding next to his window.

I had begun to climb up when he opened his window. He stared down at me.

"Kyle?" He greeted incredulously as I climbed towards him. "What the hell do you think you're doing?"

"Visiting," I replied. I paused at the top of the ladder, eye level with him now. "May I come in?"

"I guess," He reached out and grasped my arm to help me into the room. "How the hell did you get out past your parents?" He grunted as I struggled through the frame. This was a lot easier when I was doing it alone…

I didn't manage to make it into his room on my own two feet, and instead fell to the floor with him in a tangle of limbs. I was grateful that he had managed to clean his room over the weekend, because that might have been painful. "They're, uh, out right now." I breathed once I got somewhat righted and realized I was lying on top of him. Time seemed to stand still. All I could feel was him through his clothes with the heat bleeding up to warm my leg…

I thought he was going to kiss me until he frowned suddenly and pushed me off of him. "So you're over here to piss off your parents?" He said, getting to his feet swiftly.

"I…" I stared at the wall briefly wondering how the hell I was going to reply to that one. Especially since there was a hint of truth to it. I turned back to him. "You have no idea what it's like to live at my house." I said finally.

He managed a tight smile. "I can imagine." He said.

"I also wanted to see you," I said, staring up at him. He was being sarcastic for some reason that escaped me.

"I'm sure." He replied, trekking over to his desk and frowning at his computer monitor.

What the hell? WHY was he doing this to me? "I'm here, aren't I?" I said, suddenly angry.

He gave me a look out of the corner of his eyes. "Because you're trying to escape!" He snapped. "Not because you actually want to be here!"

My mouth fell open. I closed it again as I got up on shaky legs. "I thought… I thought you said you were going to help me." I said quietly. I felt betrayed and hurt. I turned back towards the window.

He caught my arm and pulled me back before I could go anywhere. I struggled against him briefly before letting myself be held in a tight embrace. "Stop it, Kyle," He muttered into my hair. He pulled away a slight bit to turn my head up towards his. I glared at him angrily for a second before he leaned in to kiss me. I could have fought, but I didn't want to. I opened my mouth with a slight 'ah' sound and let him in. I felt like I was falling. I gripped his arms as tightly as I could and deepened the kiss desperately.

He pulled his head away with a pant and looked down at me. He actually looked sad as he inspected me. I was confused. The kiss had left me horribly aroused… and there was something wrong. He let me go and took a step back.

"What?" I asked, worried myself as I gasped for breath.

He shook his head slowly. To one side… and then back again. "Did I do this to you?" He asked, half to himself.

I shut my mouth and swallowed. "What?" I asked again. "What do you mean?" I had a sinking feeling I knew exactly what he was talking about…

His face contorted. "This Kyle," He replied, yelling suddenly, gesturing with a wide sweeping movement to encompass me, the room, and him as well. "This! What the fuck is wrong with you?" He stepped forwards and gripped my upper arms, shaking me slightly. "You don't just all of a sudden for no reason decide to like the person who has spent the last 5 years trying to kill you. AND fucked you for fun. You _hate_ me Kyle."

I felt an odd chill go through me as his words processed. I pushed him away suddenly and violently, and he let me go. I backed up as far as I could, hit the wall, and pressed up against it for strength. "I never hated you!" I shouted at him. My head started to pound and I felt faint. "You stupid fucking fatass!" Now my vision was tunneling as well. "It was you all along! YOU hated ME remember!" I lost my vision suddenly in a head rush and lost contact with the wall, slumping down to the floor. "I never wanted ANY of this!" I continued, pressing the palms of my hands against my forehead. "Oh my god…" I broke down, though the words continue to spill from my lips. "You left me to die and I forgave you! You shot me and I forgave you! You nearly killed Stan and I FORGAVE YOU!" I turned my head and stared up at him out of tear filled eyes. He was standing in the middle of his room where I left him, arms dangling uselessly at his sides and staring down at me. "Last week- today- I thought…" I choked. "I thought maybe…" I couldn't continue and looked away, feeling absolutely wretched.

He walked forwards and crouched down next to me. A large hand pressed to my cheek briefly, turning my head back to him. "You thought what Kyle?" He asked quietly.

I stared at him for a moment more before scrubbing at my face with the back of my hand. I let out a little sigh and looked away again. There was no point hiding anything from him anyway… "You loved me." I muttered, feeling suddenly and hopelessly stupid.

He laughed at that, a throaty chuckle that welled up from within him. That just helped to make me feel even more stupid despite the fact that his laughter wasn't malicious. When he was done he smiled at me, touching my cheek to get me to look at him again. "I don't love anyone but myself." He said.

I knew that. I stared at him dumbly, wishing, somehow, that he was wrong.

The smile he gave me was kind… far kinder than I had ever seen on his face before. "But I care about you, and I'll work on the loving part. Alright?"

I licked my lips cautiously and swallowed. "Cartman…" I began. I had no end and just trailed off.

A mischievous smile quirked at the corner of his mouth before he grew serious. "It's going to be hard though." He said. "I mean despite being a pansy assed faggot, you're also a stupid Jew. Oh, and a liberal." He made a face. "I don't know how long I'll be able to put up with you before I'll be forced to kill you."

I blinked at him. I knew he was joking by the twinkle in his eye and the way that a smile toyed at the corner of his mouth, but that didn't make his words any less horrible. "CARTMAN!" I shouted at him. I hit him on the chest with a balled fist.

He grinned widely, sitting back on his haunches. At the same time he caught my arm and pulled me back on top of him. "Want to try again?" He smirked up at me.

I punched him in the chest with the other fist, which ended up just making him laugh out loud. "That's not quite what I meant." He grabbed my wrist in one hand, the back of my neck with the other and pulled me down to kiss me soundly.

I resisted for a few seconds before relenting. What the hell, I thought, relaxing against him.

When we pulled away again we were both panting and I'm sure he could feel me though my jeans and his. I don't think he was doing much better than me, I could tell by the throaty groan that growled up from his throat and the way he was breathing.

"Bed?" I suggested. I felt the same odd thrill go through me when he nodded and got to his feet, taking me with him. He crashed us both onto the mattress and climbed on top of me. I let him touch me wherever he wanted, his fingers mapping out my body from on top of my clothes. As soon as a huge hand cupped me though my pants I arched against him, groaning. He raised an eyebrow at that.

"Is it just me or are you really fucking horny?" He asked dryly.

I didn't reply but grinned, gripping his sides as I ground against him deliberately. I knew it was probably bad to think about it, but I wanted him inside of me like in November. It had felt good and that was about all that mattered to me with my rapidly diminishing cognitive abilities.

He went to wrestle my shirt off of me, or would have if I hadn't stopped him suddenly.

"Hurts," I explained breathlessly as I extracted my arm carefully from the sleeve. I still couldn't raise my arm directly above my head without a good deal of pain. As soon as I was done I tossed the shirt carelessly aside and learned against him. He stopped me by gripping me with my good shoulder, pushing me back so that I was arms length away.

"What?" I asked, before I realized what he was looking at so intently.

"Oh." I watched as he inspected the scar on my upper chest, eyebrows drawn together in intense concentration. He reached out and drew his fingers lightly over the area. Then he pulled me forwards again to peek over my shoulder. He let out a little exclamation of surprise.

"It didn't go through?" He asked.

I shook my head. "It wasn't powerful enough." I felt awkward and miserable talking about this. Why couldn't we just continued where we were…

"Huh." He drew back, his eyes meeting mine. I could see concern on his face. "Will you be okay?" He questioned.

I shrugged, schooling a flinch at the minor pain that caused. "I will be," I said. "Eventually."

He smiled a bit at that, only the tiniest of one that flicked at the corner of his mouth before he learned forwards and pressed his lips to mine.

It admittedly didn't take me very long to get warmed up again. He had a month's worth of practice to know how to touch me and where and what way to get me to respond to him. I also wasn't surprised in the least and in fact extremely grateful to see that he kept a supply of lotion in his bedside table.

He even fucking went down on me, which he had never done to me before, even throughout all of November. He was really really good at it too, which I suppose shouldn't have been surprising seeing as he did it a lot when he was young to random people.

The only annoying part was when Kenny phoned to see where I was, then told me he had Butters over and was going to convince him to let Kenny have sex with him. I could have killed him. Kenny that is, not Butters. I had no idea why the fuck Butters was even at my house. Eric got the phone back away from me and swore at Kenny before hanging up.

A half hour later I laid against him, head nestled against his chest as he combed his fingers through my hair. We were both fighting for breath, he was a little more than I. He spoke when he managed to stop panting enough to speak. "What the hell." He said.

What the hell indeed. I sat up so that I could look at him, grinning. "That was AMAZING." I pronounced.

He rolled his eyes slightly and smiled. That smile didn't last long, fading back into nothing. He studied me with a cryptic expression on his face.

"What is it?" I asked, concerned.

He reached up and pushed a lock of hair out of my eyes. "What happens now Kyle?" He asked, completely serious.

I sat back, grin fading. "What do you mean?" I asked. I knew perfectly well what he meant. He meant we just had sex sure, but that didn't make a relationship…

Sure enough, Cartman shook his head. "We can't stand each other at the best of times." He said. "I mean its one thing to have wonderful mind blowing sex, but it's another when we're in class together and hate each other."

I frowned a bit, then decided I wasn't going to let him get to me. "Hate each other and have sex anyway?" I asked hopefully.

He glared at me and blushed at the same time. "You're such a faggot."

I smiled and snuggled back down next to him. "I know," I said serenely.

He rolled his eyes but didn't shove me away. "God and you admit it to. Fag."

I laughed and leaned up again so I could see his face. "I've known I was gay since Elementry, what's your excuse?"

I watched as a wide range of emotions flitted across his face. Finally he turned his head and looked down at me. "I like people who piss me off." He said sincerely.

"Oh thanks," I said. Now it was my turn to roll my eyes.

"You're welcome." Cartman reached out and grabbed me for another kiss.

A half an hour after THAT, we were back to the laying next to each other. I was curled against his side with my eyes closed. I was content. Though that may have just been because of the sex. I also knew that he was right and this couldn't last, that eventually he'd do something to bug me, and I'd do something to bug him and we would start fighting again. But right then? It didn't matter. I would tackle the eventual animosity when it came.

The slightest smile tweaked at the corner of my mouth, remembering what he said. Maybe I liked people who pissed me off too.

I must have dozed off because the next thing I knew I was waking up to the sound of Cartman talking into his phone. He clicked it off with a frown as I looked up at him, blinking sleepily. "Who was that?" I mumbled.

He turned his head and looked down at me. "Kenny says your parents are coming home and you'd better get back." He replied.

I groaned and slung an arm over my face. "Fuck my parents," I said sincerely.

"I did," He replied. "Your mom's good in bed," He added with a smile.

I gave him a disgusted look as I rolled out of bed. "That's not even funny Cartman," I said, shuddering a bit.

"It's not," His smug voice replied from behind me. "But your expression is."

I sighed as I went to get my clothes, wondering a little at how they managed to land all over the place. He got up too, didn't even bother hiding himself.

"Kyle?" He asked.

I finished pulling on my pants and straightened. "Yeah?" I replied.

He reached out to me and I let him touch my face. "I'm glad," He said after a moment, giving me a particularly tender look, unlike anything I had ever really seen before. "I'm glad… you didn't die."

I shut my eyes briefly. When I opened them again, he was still looking at me like that. "Yeah," I replied, swallowing past the lump that had formed in my throat. "Yeah, me too."

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**Added Author's Notes 07-31-2010** : This fanfic should now be considered complete. I went back and reread the entire thing and decided that I am happy with this ending. I will now leave the task of deciding what happens next in the hands of you, the reader. Thanks for reading!


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